


Never in Heart

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Curse Breaking, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Mutual Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Romance, Sexual Content, marriage pact, marriage vow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: Hermione Granger had never anticipated that Draco Malfoy would be her best friend, a decade after the war. She'd also never meant to wind up trapped in a marriage pact, borne of one late night with too much wine. But as his thirtieth birthday draws near, time will either seek to push them together or drive them apart.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 564
Kudos: 1754
Collections: Draco and Hermione, dm fanfics, hp fics i could read endlessly





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! Welcome to Never in Heart. This story has been in the works for a few months, is pretty much entirely written, and will land at 13 chapters including a sort-of-epilogue. I'll be updating every five days.
> 
> This one's the fluffy, best friends to lovers balm my soul has needed to write lately, and I sincerely hope you enjoy the story and I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Hugs and squishes to Kyonomiko for alpha reading this piece, and I've decided to roll with this one sans beta so I hope you can excuse a few potential errors.

**_"True friends never apart, maybe in distance but never in heart."_ **

**_― Helen Keller_ **

* * *

"Blast it all; I might as well just marry you."

In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest thing Hermione Granger had ever said. But in all fairness, they'd been a bottle and a half deep, and she'd just come off a particularly dreadful string of first dates.

The sentiment had been followed by a low snort and a wry, drawled, "Please. Who says I'd even want to marry you anyways?"

Lifting a singular, unimpressed brow, Hermione had stared down her companion. "I've seen the types of women you date."

"True," Draco had allowed, lifting his hands in defense. "But you and I both know you could do better than me. I'd certainly be your last resort."

"Not the _last_."

The conversation had devolved from that point, and though the rest of the night was a vague blur, her recollections coloured in a haze of elf-made wine and poor decisions, the consequences of the drunken vow they'd made were concrete.

Of course, it was all hypothetical, because surely by the time they were both thirty, at least one of them would have found someone with whom they wanted to settle down. Draco was still only twenty-seven, and the vow wouldn't go into effect for almost three years.

There was nothing to worry about.

* * *

It had taken a few years after the war ended to finally set their youthful grievances aside, but by the time they'd both pulled their heads out of their arses and grown up, it was remarkable how well Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy found they could relate.

And while the development had been hotly contested by her friends—his had been merely skeptical—over the years they had slipped into one another's circles with relative ease.

The first time the pair of them had been spotted out in London together, _Witch Weekly_ had had a field day, proclaiming a number of half-truths and downright lies. Every so often, there was still speculation that the pair of them were an item; Hermione always rolled her eyes as the tabloids dissected every discussion and platonic touch between them, but it was a guilty pleasure to follow the saga nonetheless.

Although after a while, the novelty of it had worn off, and their friendship had simply become another reality of the brave new world that was post-war wizarding London.

Her friendship with Draco filled all the holes Harry and Ron left behind. The pair had always been closer with one another than with her, especially after Hermione's brief and ill-fated attempt at something with Ron following the war.

It hadn't taken long for her to realise that the youthful crush she had once harboured had faded with the realities of war, and they had never made it off the ground, much to Ron's chagrin.

Draco always sought to push her—and her buttons—at every opportunity; he challenged her in ways that neither Harry nor Ron ever had, and he could parry a stimulating conversation with her for hours.

In fact, more than once the pair of them had been left to their own devices during a night at the pub because everyone else had lost interest.

Following the war, his family had faced serious reparations from the Ministry, and Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to a short term in Azkaban; but Harry's testimonial and character witness at Narcissa's trial had kept the woman out of prison.

Given her own parents, though their memories had been restored after the war, had opted to remain overseas in Australia, they'd often bonded over their post-war familial dysfunction. A tension existed between Hermione and her parents that had never been there before, as if they didn't quite know how to trust her anymore. And on her annual week-long visits to see them, she often found herself on the edge of where she used to find comfort.

But still, they were alive and they remembered her, and it was more than she had once feared. She still carried hope that things would continue to improve over time.

Draco's own trial sentencing had involved efforts in the rebuilding of Hogwarts, and the requirement that he complete his NEWTs during their eighth year.

He was always the first to say he'd been let off easy.

And Hermione could still remember the haunted look in his eyes, the first day they had spoken as anything other than enemies, when Draco had sought her out in an empty corridor to apologise.

They had both come a long way. But she knew well enough the demons he still faced, as surely as she had her own. Certain experiences and memories would always linger; it was a lesson they had all learned as they attempted to piece together a semblance of normalcy, only to learn they needed to embrace something different instead.

Although she and Draco had been friends now for the better part of a decade, and despite the accusations from everyone else, neither of them had ever made a move to cross the lines drawn between them.

A part of Hermione had always been aware of his charm and good looks, especially as he'd come into his own after the war, but he had never indicated any interest in taking things further, and neither had she.

Another part of her suspected they would drive one another up the wall.

Despite all of that, she never doubted the strength of their friendship. One thing she had been surprised to learn about Draco Malfoy was that he had a hidden protective streak, to the point where she often needed to remind him that she was perfectly capable of defending her own honour, thank you, and more than once she'd had to drag him away from a potential altercation.

Especially at first, when she'd taken all the negative attention in stride. When the black and white sorts of London society had turned on her for taking him in.

And she was always the first to jump in and defend him. Many of the young female wizarding elite had claws and knew how to use them, particularly when his filthy, stacked-to-the-ceiling vaults were involved.

So while they got along well for the most part—every so often they debated themselves into a screaming match—Hermione didn't quite know how she felt about the idea of marrying him over a drunken pact made in the middle of the night on a wednesday.

If they were both still single and unattached by the time they were both thirty, they would wed one another. And they had sealed it with a vow, like the pair of particular pedants that they were.

But it would be fine. They had years to go.

* * *

Only, then a year passed.

And Merlin, if the men at the Ministry of Magic weren't growing duller by the week.

Hermione hadn't had any prospects last beyond the third date in six months, and she had grown increasingly frustrated with the situation.

It wasn't that Hermione _needed_ a partner.

In fact, she was quite capable of living her own life and taking care of her own business without relying on anyone, even her friends. There was no intense desire pushing her to meet someone, because she genuinely did enjoy her life on her own. She appreciated her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she saw her friends at least once or twice a week, and she had plenty of other hobbies and extracurricular projects on the side to keep her calendar filled.

But every so often, she felt a flicker of _something_ that resembled an interest in finding someone with whom she could share her life.

And if she was being honest, as a woman in her late twenties, she was comfortable enough with herself to admit that she enjoyed the more physical aspects of a relationship. One-night stands rarely interested her, however, and she had little cause to take a man home when she often couldn't bear the thought of inane conversation after the fact.

The problem was that the men she met were either meek intellectuals who were too intimidated to engage in stimulating discussion, or overbearing, domineering types who couldn't carry a conversation.

Hermione didn't think it was asking too much that she meet someone in the middle.

At first, the occasional bad date had led her to Draco's posh flat after a disappointing evening out, bottle of wine clutched in her hand, and an apologetic smile on her face.

He was always quick to reassure her that _no_ , it wasn't her that was the problem, and she didn't need a fucking spoonmuppet like that in her life anyways.

After the third time, it had become a bit of a thing—and after he'd wound up on _her_ doorstep a few times in reciprocity, it had simply become a habit.

Most of the women Draco met were beautiful floozies who had more interest in the Malfoy coffers than in him as a person, and though he put up a tough exterior, she knew it bothered him more than he tried to let on.

And Hermione invariably wound up reminding him that he was more than his family name, or his good looks, or his diamond cufflinks.

It had become a bit of a bad habit, if she was honest, because lately they'd been drinking quite a lot of wine.

A sharp rapping on the door jarred her from her thoughts. Speak of the pale-haired devil himself.

Lips twitching with a smile, she called, "Come in!" Draco knew well enough how to get through her wards, as he'd done on more than one occasion, but she knew he found it more proper to announce himself—especially after the time he'd let himself in while she'd been entertaining.

Moments later, Draco found her in the kitchen in her small flat, reaching for two wine glasses from the cupboard.

"No wine," he breezed, snatching the pair of glasses from her hand and returning them with ease to the high shelf. "We aren't drinking tonight. We've become a pair of lushes, and no one will have us if we keep ingesting all this sugar."

Turning to face him, her back to the countertop, she eyed him from beneath her lashes. "What's happened now?"

"Nothing happened," he said, wrinkling his nose with distaste. "It's only occurred to me that we should… I don't know. Go for a run or something."

"A run."

He wore a pair of slacks and a button-down with spotless dragonhide oxfords.

"A _jog_." Hesitating for a moment, he pursed his lips. "A rapidly paced walk."

Blinking at him, she echoed under her breath, "Rapidly paced."

They stared blankly at one another for a long moment, before he added, "I'd like some ice cream, alright?"

She clipped, " _There_ it is. So we're just replacing our sugar intake this evening."

"Yes." Biting down hard on her lower lip to keep from laughing, she gazed at him until he nudged her in the shoulder. "Come on. Fortescue's—my treat."

"We can't _walk_ to Fortescue's from here."

"You fucking pedant," he said with a good-natured scoff. "We'll Apparate then."

"Which entirely negates your announcement that we need to incorporate more regular exercise into our routine—"

He cut her off with a hand plastered over her mouth, shaking his head even as he threw his head back with a laugh. "What would I do without you, witch?"

Wrenching his hand from her mouth, she flashed him a wide grin. "With any luck, you'll never have to find out, hmm?"

At his returning crooked grin, warmth settled in her being, and he muttered, "Merlin willing. Now let's go."

* * *

Hermione was met with suspicion and a pale, raised brow when she arrived at Draco's flat in the middle of the afternoon, some weeks after the ice cream incident. His flat was modest, by his standards—which meant it was still significantly larger and nicer than her own—but Hermione had always appreciated his keen eye for decor.

"Did you have a rubbish lunch date?" he asked, lips pulling into a smirk as she strode past him into the flat. "No, that can't be it—you haven't brought wine."

"No wine," Hermione agreed, digging in a rucksack and shoving a pair of trainers into his chest. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and you were right. We _do_ need to incorporate more regular exercise into our routine."

"We don't actually," Draco drawled, looking put off by the athletic shoes as he set them on the floor in the entry. His gaze carefully swept her athletic outfit, his top lip curling with disinterest. "In fact, I'm quite pleased with my routine as it is."

Hermione turned towards him, folding her arms across her chest. "You're in terrible shape."

"Am not!" he retorted, bristling. Rolling his eyes, he gestured down at his own physique; externally, he _did_ look fit.

Huffing a breath through her nose, she drew her own pair of trainers from the bag. "Do you remember that time the lift was down for maintenance and you had to climb fourteen flights of stairs?"

She was met with silence and a scowl.

"Besides," Hermione breezed on, "wizards and witches are notoriously bad about looking after their physical wellbeing. Muggles are much more cognizant of these things, and frankly, it's something we could learn from them."

"Muggles are also prone to heart failure and diseases that are easily curable by magical healers," he drawled, eyeing the trainers with disdain. " _And_ wizards have a longer life expectancy than muggles, even so."

As if he'd made his point, he straightened his shoulders, peering down at her.

She merely stared back at him for a long moment, her lips twitching. "Are you through?"

Clearly, Draco realised she wasn't going to let the subject go, because he trailed towards his bedroom, grumbling a string of quiet expletives, and several minutes later, returned in a plain t-shirt and a pair of running trousers.

Hermione slipped on her own shoes, ignoring the daggers in his stare as she double-checked the contents of her rucksack. "I've got water, plasters in case you fall—"

"Fuck off," he scoffed, snatching the bag from her hands and swinging it onto his own back. "Let's just do this, then."

Down the street from his complex was a lush, verdant park with a network of running paths, and within a few minutes they were jogging at a decent pace. Despite that neither of them had been remotely active in a long while, Hermione felt a frisson of pride chase through her.

"We could do this regularly," she said, the words coming out a bit breathy. A sharp nod punctuated her words. "We'll be in great shape; we could even join some races. Marathons."

"Sure," he choked out, a flush to his usually pale complexion. "We're doing great."

"Yes!" Hermione agreed, sucking in a deep inhale. "We've already been going—" with a glance at her watch, she grimaced "—three minutes."

Due to his longer legs, Draco's stride was naturally longer, and it was a challenge to keep up with him as they carried on around the bend, until he stopped dead in the middle of the path, bent in half at the waist, and gasping for breath.

"Go on without me," he choked, fumbling in her rucksack for a bottle of water. "I'm not cut out for this."

A pair of men ran past at a good clip, snickering. One of them tossed back at her, "You're welcome to join _us_."

Smouldering with anger, Draco glared at them, his hand instinctively twitching towards his wand as he slopped water down his front. Hermione simply rolled her eyes, snatching the water from his hand and taking a long swig, her own chest heaving with the exertion.

"Maybe," she panted, "we'll have to work out way up to marathons. Lift some weights or something."

Draco fired her a look. "Or we never speak of this day, and get ice cream instead."

Releasing a sigh, she took another drink of water before handing it back to him. A smile tugged at her lips despite herself and her best efforts. "Ice cream it is."

* * *

The situation didn't begin to feel precarious until Hermione's twenty-ninth birthday was upon her. But still, she was almost nine months older than Draco, and there were still close to two years before the vow would activate.

A fact she'd taken to steadily reminding herself.

"It's a good thing you turned down that opportunity in Paris," Draco said, picking at a plate of tapas at a small Spanish establishment. "Try these croquetas. I can't decide if I like them or not."

Dragging the morsel from the tines of his fork with her fingers as he extended it across the table—and ignoring his derision over her table manners—she popped the bite into her mouth. Chewing for a moment, she made a face. "Too much salt."

"Too much salt," he agreed, "Yet somehow still bland."

"You were _saying_."

"Well," he said, gesturing with the fork, "if you left for Paris for six months, what on earth would I do with all my spare time?" He rolled his eyes, a facetious, practiced gesture. "Especially since I get so much amusement from your love life."

Hermione had long since learned not to take his jabs seriously—but for some reason, the flippancy stung.

Even so, she quietly mused, "You mean lack thereof."

He pointed at her with the fork.

The department had offered to send her on an exchange in Paris, where she would be able to pursue her research on the bicorn population there on the side. But when another opportunity had arose in Staffordshire, she had opted to stay closer to home.

And if she was fully honest with herself, Draco was a part of the reason she hadn't wanted to run off for six months. Even though she knew he could look after himself, there was a part of her that always felt a little protective of him. He was her closest friend, and who knew what sort of chaos he'd get himself into if she weren't around to temper his impulses.

She also suspected she would miss him something awful if they didn't see one another on a regular basis.

"Well," she said with a huff, "Paris will have to call my name another time, I suppose."

Slowly, his grey eyes dragged up from his plate to meet hers. "Haven't you been to France?"

"Yes." A hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she added, "But I've also been to Staffordshire."

Draco released a low snort. "Fair. Then go to Paris."

With a noncommittal hum, Hermione stabbed a bite of her potatoes. Silence descended upon them and she wasn't entirely comfortable with the underlying tension.

But Draco leaned back in his seat, oblivious. "What time are we going out tomorrow?"

Pushing a bite around her plate, she shrugged. "I think Theo said he's booked the venue for eight."

If it were up to Hermione, she wouldn't do anything to celebrate her birthday. Twenty-nine wasn't a number she cared for, and she had never been keen on the attention draw anyways. But Draco had insisted, and gone as far as to enlist Theodore Nott in planning the affair.

"Right," he drawled, eyes tightened as he appraised the other patrons of the restaurant before they slid back to her. "Not weird if I bring a date, is it?"

Surprised, she blinked at him, feeling an odd swooping in her stomach. "I didn't know you were seeing someone."

His nose wrinkled and he made a face. "Still new, I suppose. I've seen her a couple times; I think you'd like her."

At his expectant stare, Hermione forced a thick swallow, unable to dredge up any of their usual mocking. "I'm… certain she's lovely." Draco's expression faltered, a furrow pinching the skin between his brows. Pasting a smile onto her lips, she added, "It's totally fine. In fact, I've got a date coming myself."

"Hermione."

"Draco."

"You're acting odd." He lifted one brow, eyeing her for a long moment. "If you'd rather I not—it's your birthday after all, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable if—"

"Why would it make me uncomfortable?" Her voice came out a bit higher than she'd intended, and she couldn't exactly place the nausea pooling in her stomach; if he noticed, he didn't comment. "If she's made it to a third date with the notoriously picky Draco Malfoy, then I look forward to meeting her."

But his eyes only tightened further. "What's your date's name?"

Blast him and his Slytherin cunning.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Hermione announced, "His name is David."

Draco's brows flickered once, and he folded his hands across his stomach. "Fine. I'll hold my judgement for tomorrow, then."

He had never been one to refrain from said judgement—and he had pushed away more than one potential suitor of hers over the years. Managing a tight smile, she took a long sip of her ice water.

And after they parted following dinner, Hermione spent the rest of the evening trying to track down someone named David who would be willing to accompany her to her own damn birthday party.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, the only man named David who Hermione could convince to attend the party at her side was a loud, boisterous man from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes with thinning hair and a penchant for free whisky—which was what she had offered in exchange for him keeping her company for the night.

Hermione didn't know why she had even bothered going to the trouble beyond the fact that she had already committed to the fallacy by lying to her best friend about the fact that she _didn't_ have a date. But she didn't want to discourage him if he'd found someone he was genuinely interested in.

Obviously, it was an eventuality she expected might happen someday. But she had grown so used to things being just the pair of them, and the idea of Draco actually getting involved in something serious with someone had always felt like a bit of a hypothetical situation.

She couldn't rationalise the uneasy swooping in her stomach when she looked up to see them talking, his hand affixed to the small of her back. Her hair fell in delicate blonde waves to the middle of her back, and she was showing a little more leg than Hermione thought strictly necessary. But there was a genuine smile on his face—she knew the difference better than anyone, having spent so much time with him—and Hermione dredged forth her own happiness on his behalf.

Until David stumbled up alongside her, sloshing an overfull glass of amber liquid onto her shoes.

Belatedly, she wrenched her stare from Draco and his date—Belinda or Betsy or something—just as he glanced up to notice her staring. Feeling a hot sting in her cheeks, Hermione forced a smile to her lips even as alcohol seeped through her toes.

* * *

Some time later, when Draco and his new girlfriend sidled up alongside Hermione and David—who had just loudly announced his interest in the passing waitress—Hermione found herself proffering a hand, a smile plastered to her lips.

"Hermione," she murmured, taking the girl's hand, "Draco's told me all about you."

It wasn't true, of course, since she couldn't remember the girl's name, but now it was too late to ask without appearing rude.

"And you as well!" the girl exclaimed with a sparkling smile. "He's told me how lucky he is to have you as a friend."

A smirk pulled at Draco's lips when she glanced his way.

Hermione mused, "Well, it certainly goes both—"

"David." Her date brandished a beefy hand towards Draco, releasing a loud belch, and Draco wore his disgust plainly on his face as he slipped his hand into a pocket instead. David had the audacity to wink at Draco's date and the blond's expression flashed.

"So David," he drawled, lifting a pale brow. The tone of his voice set off warning bells in Hermione's mind and she pressed her eyes briefly shut. "How long have you known Hermione?"

Before David could answer, Draco went on. "Forgive me for saying so—" he didn't look the least bit contrite "—but you don't exactly strike me as Hermione's type, and I need to be sure you aren't going to mistreat her, of course."

Scratching the back of his head, David blinked at Draco for several moments before turning to Hermione with a roll of his eyes. "This ponce, right?"

Draco's face remained passive aside from a tic in his jaw and Hermione winced.

His date released a nervous titter, a smile frozen halfway on her face.

"Hermione, a moment?" Draco ground out. Without waiting for a response, he strode away from the small circle, leaving his date with David, while Hermione sucked in a breath and followed. As soon as they were out of hearing range, he spun on his heel with a hissed, "What the _fuck_ , Hermione?"

Though her cheeks flushed, she held her chin up. "Perhaps he's not the most eloquent—"

"You didn't have a date at all," he seethed. "Why did you lie to me?" With a disdainful curl of his lip, he went on with a muttered, "I can't believe you invited _that_ man to your birthday party."

Hermione folded her arms and grasped her elbows, feeling a sting at her eyes as she worried her bottom lip; instantly, Draco's expression softened.

"If you didn't want me to bring a date," he said, quieter, "you should have just said so."

She could only whisper, "If she makes you happy, I wanted you to bring her."

For an instant, his eyes flickered behind her shoulder to where they had left their dates awkwardly alone together. Draco said with a shrug, "I suppose I'm interested in her. But I hardly know her and she isn't more important than you. Tonight is about you."

Dredging up her best effort at a smile, Hermione said, "Then I'm glad for you."

Draco's expression fell as he stared at her, lips twisted to the side.

Before he could speak, Hermione clapped a hand to his arm. "I hope you have a nice night—I think I'm going to take off. I've got an early morning tomorrow."

"No you don't," he scoffed, brow furrowing. "Why would you—"

"I'm going to Paris." When his lips parted, eyes widening slightly in surprise, she pushed forward. "I decided it was too good of an opportunity to pass up after all."

" _Tomorrow_?"

All she could see in the back of her mind was the way Draco had leaned in towards his date, fingers grazing the bare skin above the back of her dress, a devastating smile stretching across his face.

"Yes," she breathed, "tomorrow. I know it's a little last minute, but—"

" _Hermione_."

"What?"

He eyed her for a long moment, looking unconvinced. "If you're doing this—if I've _upset_ you—" Sighing, he carded a hand through his hair. "I know we don't really talk about that vow because we were drunken idiots that night, and it's still far off, but…"

Hermione didn't think she could handle whatever he was about to say. "It's fine," she rushed. When she glanced over her shoulder, Draco's date was lingering by the wall looking uncertain; David was at the bar talking up the waitress. "It's nothing to do with any of that—maybe our conversation last night just reminded me that I'd like to do this while I can. For myself."

Although he still looked skeptical, Draco only shook his head. "Six months?"

"Six months," she echoed, feeling the words clang dully in her chest. "Who knows—maybe by the time I come back you'll be engaged to—"

"Beth," he said quietly. "Her name is Beth."

Of course he'd realised she didn't catch his date's name. But then, she rarely had cause to, because she'd never met the same girl twice.

"And we'll never have to worry about the repercussions of that night again." Hermione felt emotionally drained and ready to go home.

Sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, he eyed her for a long moment. "I'll miss you."

"You know I'll miss you," she returned, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. "You'll have to visit."

A wry grin crossed his face in return. "Of course I will."

Her throat felt hot and tight and she dragged him into a brief embrace, heart clamouring in her chest, before she drew back and gave him a long look. "If she's the one, Draco Malfoy—don't fuck it up, yeah?"

But he only gazed at her for another long moment, his throat bobbing with a swallow. "Yeah."

Before she could say anything else, she offered a nod and strode away, leaving him behind in the pub.

* * *

Despite the anxious feeling that she ought to stay in London, Hermione packed up the contents of her small flat and moved to Paris. It was only for six months, and it really _was_ a better opportunity.

Besides that, maybe a fresh dating pool wouldn't go amiss. London had proved time and again that it wasn't where she was going to meet someone, and the last thing she needed was for Draco to go and fall for someone and leave her to her miserable dating life alone.

She didn't need anyone.

She was happy for him.

It was the mantra that had echoed through the back of her mind for two months, ever since she had said goodbye to Draco the night of her twenty-ninth birthday party.

They had owled back and forth, but it wasn't the same. She missed the sparkle in his grey eyes when he looked at her as if he had a joke—even if the joke was often found in ridiculing her. Because she gave as good as she took, and their friendship had always had a teasing, good-natured edge to it.

She missed their idle gossip, the way he would drone about his family's expectations, and how he _would have_ beat her in the Potions NEWT if he hadn't been under the weather that day.

It was a good step for her, to distance herself a little. Perhaps their friendship had become a little too codependent, after all, and it was for the best.

The placement with the French Ministry had kept Hermione busy enough that she hadn't found time to escape to London for a few days, but there was still a part of her that was hesitant anyways.

They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, and that tension still rose beneath the words in his letters. But there was nothing to be done for it while they were in different countries. International Floo and Portkeys were a hassle that she couldn't think about just yet.

Which was why it came as such a surprise when a knock sounded on the wooden door of her temporary flat. And it was a knock she recognised.

A frisson of nerves chased down her spine, which was ridiculous, because he was her best friend, but Hermione couldn't keep the incredulous smile from crossing her face when she swung open the door to see Draco Malfoy in the corridor.

His hair was a little longer, his fringe hanging in his eyes, but a slow, crooked smirk dragged across his lips as he breathed, "Surprise."

"Draco!" she exclaimed, mouth parted in shock, before she found herself consumed in his embrace, her face plastered against his firm chest as she belatedly wrapped her arms around his middle. Breathless, she drew away. "What are you doing here?"

"Came for a visit, obviously," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "Told you I would, didn't I?"

Without waiting for an invitation he stepped through into the flat, closing the door behind himself, before idly flicking through her possessions and making himself squarely at home.

It was like nothing had ever changed, and relief chased through her, settling in her bones as she asked, "Wine?"

"Of course, wine," he snickered. "When do I ever _not_ want wine?"

"There was that time, with the ice cream—"

" _Aside_ from the time with the ice cream."

Clicking her tongue, Hermione poured two glasses of wine as he drifted into the kitchen, leaning forward on the island as he stared around. "It's nice."

She met his stare. "It's _okay_."

"Oh good," he said with a heavy breath of relief, "because these _cabinets_."

Grimacing, she took a sip. "I know—if I was staying longer I'd have them redone."

He drank half his glass of wine while simply staring at her, before finally he asked, "How has the placement been?"

"Great! Really good."

"That dry?" He smirked, leaning back against the wall. "Makes Staffordshire look more appealing?"

"I love Paris," she was quick to clarify. "But the position is… perhaps not as exciting as I'd hoped. My research is coming along well, though, and I'm learning lots that I'll be able to bring back to the Ministry when I return—"

Meeting his gaze, her lips twitched.

Pushing off from the wall again—it was unusual that he was so fidgety—he walked back over to stand beside her, pouring himself another glass. "You should come home."

"I will, in four months." He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything more. And though Hermione didn't want to ask, she couldn't help the words from pouring out. "How's Beth?"

"Beth?" He made a face, scrunching up the bridge of his nose. " _Oh_. Beth. We broke up."

"Oh." Chewing her lip, she dropped her head to the side. "You two looked like you were getting along."

"Right, well," he murmured, his voice low, "it didn't work out." After a long, tense pause, he added softly, "I'd prefer not to talk about it."

They _always_ ribbed one another over their failed relationships. It was one of the most vital and consistent components of their friendship. She wondered whether it had ended badly—if he'd grown to care for her.

But he huffed a sigh and took a sip of wine. "Stop giving me that look. It was right after your birthday party."

Every bone within her wanted to push, to dig for answers, but he rarely asked anything of her, and she could only manage a nod. "Okay. Well, it's actually perfect that you showed up today because I don't have to work tomorrow."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Excellent."

* * *

Several hours, and several bottles of wine later, the pair of them stumbled into Hermione's flat, full of the most decadent French food Draco could throw his galleons at, tears of mirth breaking from Hermione's eyes.

She couldn't even remember what they were laughing at, now, but all she knew was that it hadn't been particularly funny.

It was incredibly nice to have Draco back at her side; all of her fears that things had gone funny between them after her birthday had vanished. Relief and happiness teased at the fuzzy edges of her brain as she shot him a belated grin.

With a wide yawn, he dropped into her sofa, stretching his long legs the entire length of it and propping his socked feet on the armrest; Hermione snorted at the sight of it.

"What?" he drawled, folding his hands behind his head.

Sinking into the armchair beside him, she only shook her head, smiling. "I'm glad you've come to visit me."

His head rolled to face her. "One of us had to."

"Unfair," Hermione said, clicking her tongue. "I've been working almost every day."

"And what do you think I've been doing?" he asked, a dry flippancy in his voice as he wafted an idle hand through the air. "Sitting around in a fucking dressing gown and smoking cigars?"

Snickering, Hermione shot him a look.

Sitting upright again, he narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know I'm in negotiations over a piece of land in Diagon."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed with legitimate surprise. "In Diagon?"

Although he had struggled after Hogwarts to find a potions master willing to take him on for his mastery, Draco had been brewing freelance for years. It had always been a dream of his to open his own apothecary.

The entirety of it had been an uphill battle, given his past, and Hermione knew how much it meant to him. But they had never expected he would be able to land a location on the coveted main street of Diagon Alley.

"Yeah," he said, his tone softening as Hermione jumped over to sit beside him on the sofa, folding her legs beneath herself and facing him. He released a long breath, his lips curling with a smile. "I think it might actually be happening."

"This is wonderful news," she said, nudging him in the shoulder. Slowly, she coaxed a full grin from him, a silver sparkle in his irises. "We should be celebrating!"

"What do you think the last three bottles of wine were?"

But she couldn't stop smiling at him. "Let's go out."

Never mind that it was already past midnight at the end of November; through the window a light dusting of snow covered the walk.

Draco snickered. "We were just out." His eyes tightened in consideration as he stared at her, and he said quietly, "Let's go to the Eiffel Tower."

A huff of laughter escaped her lips. "It's closed."

"Oh, right, sorry," he drawled, rolling his eyes, "because we can't fucking _Apparate_ —"

Before Hermione could say anything, he curled a hand around her elbow and yanked her to her feet, and her stomach twisted between the wine and the Apparition, before they landed.

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide as they took in their surroundings. "You can't just—"

But beyond them, the lights of Paris spanned in all directions; nerves fluttered in her stomach at the height as she peered down from the top level of the Eiffel Tower. Idly, Draco cast a warming charm on each of them to combat the chill in the air as fluffy snowflakes dropped into her hair.

Hermione could only gape as he took up a spot at the ledge, gazing out. "You could have splinched us!"

"We're fine," he said without looking at her as, despite herself, she walked up alongside him. "You said we should celebrate."

A breath caught in her throat at the beauty of it. The soft silence between them lingered so high up, a haze of sparkling lights below.

Draco slung a casual arm around her shoulders, nuzzling her hair for a moment; despite herself, she tucked into his side, her eyelids fluttering. "Tell me something," he mused into her hair, before resting his face on the top of her head. "Why did you run away from London?"

"I didn't run away," she scoffed, feeling a slight pinking in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

He hummed, fingers curling tighter around her shoulder. "You told me you were staying in London, and less than twenty-four hours later you decided to go to Paris after all. Did I do something?"

Swallowing, she whispered, "Of course not."

He remained silent for a long moment, and pressed against him, she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. "I shouldn't have brought anyone to your birthday. I never know how to bring up that blasted vow because I know you regret it. And… sometimes I feel like it affects _us_ and I don't know how to deal with it properly. You're one of the only people I really feel like I can trust, Hermione, and I never want anything to come between that."

Hermione's heart jumped to life at his words, emotion tugging at her chest and the corners of her eyes. "I never told you I regretted it."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she could imagine a smirk pulling at his lips. "But you _do_."

She didn't know how to answer him. Not without making the situation uncomfortable.

Because she _had_ run away after her birthday party. She hadn't known how to deal with the way it had made her feel, to see him there with Beth. Whether it was some misguided drive to protect her friend—or if it was because she was so possessive of the dynamic between them and she didn't want anyone to get in the way of that.

Or if it was something else that she wasn't quite ready to address yet.

Obviously, he went on plenty of dates, as did she. But somehow it had all played out that nothing was ever serious, and it felt more like a game between them most of the time.

So to consider the fact that he might actually one day meet someone he wanted to spend his life with was jarring and unsettling in a plethora of ways.

And here in Paris, without him so close, it had been easy enough to push the feelings aside.

At last she whispered, "I don't know."

His grip on her shoulder faltered and tightened again. "It's okay. Honestly, I'm surprised some French bloke hasn't swept you off your feet yet. I don't think that vow will ever actually come to anything."

Warm in his hold, Hermione dropped her face to rest on his shoulder, feeling the dull thud of his heart in his chest near her face.

Neither of them had ever voiced the sentiment, but she whispered, "If it does?"

"If it does…" Trailing off, he lifted his head from hers, gazing out upon the Parisian skyline. "We'd drive one another spare, but at least we already know we get along." They were both silent for a long moment before he added quietly, "I don't want you to get stuck with me. You deserve better."

"Draco," she murmured, a warning in her tone, before idly continuing, "you don't get to talk about yourself like that, remember?"

A single, humourless laugh, but he didn't respond.

Drawing in a breath for courage, Hermione said, "If you're dating all these women because you think I'd be _settling_ —"

"I'm dating," he broke in, "because it's just what we do, and I'll never know if I don't try. But fuck if I wouldn't be happy with you." His voice dropped and he murmured against her hair, "And you _would_ be settling."

"I respectfully disagree."

Draco chuckled, pressing his lips to her crown, and drew away. "I'm a lucky sonofabitch to have you—and I won't let anyone get in the way of our friendship. You're more important than any woman I might meet, and if anyone ever threatens to come between us, you're always going to come first."

Her heart clenched at his words, even as a bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. "If you fall in love with someone that will change."

For a long moment he stared at her, silence hanging between them, until Hermione finally lifted her face to look at him. His face was stoic but for a slight pull between his brows. Colour tinged her cheeks at his appraisal but she couldn't quite look away.

"Somehow," he said at last, "I doubt it."

Something tugged at her chest, and Hermione couldn't place whether it was the way he still held her at his side, or the hazy lights of the city below, or if it was something below the timbre of his words.

But she didn't have the heart to say anything more about it.

And for the moment, she only wanted to bask in the thought that they were together again. She whispered, "I've missed you."

"Oh, fuck," he said, some of the softness gone from his voice, "you've no idea. Every time I try to talk to Theo about things you and I would talk about he wants to make it _weird_."

"Theo _is_ weird."

"I know," he paused, "but he takes things so personally when you would just laugh them off."

A smile curled her lips at the mention of their friends from home, and she asked, "How's Harry doing?"

"He's fine, so far as I know," Draco said, wrinkling the bridge of his nose. "Oh! That reminds me—we were right about the pair of them."

"I knew it," she said, rolling her eyes. "They were both so vehement in their denial." Her smile softened and she added, "I think they just needed to get the timing down."

"Yeah," he agreed, "but they're clearly right for one another, and we've been saying it for years." Hermione glanced his way, wondering if he was thinking the same, when he snickered. "Of course, they say that about you and I."

Unwilling to dig back into that conversation, she mused idly, "Yes."

As if on the same page, he finally released her, and Hermione felt an implicit chill at the loss of contact. "You'll just have to come visit soon and you can see them yourself. And for the love of Merlin, don't make me go another two months without seeing you."

"I won't."

Hermione didn't know if she _could_.

A smile curled his lips. "Good. Now let's go back—it's bloody freezing up here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the lovely reception to the first chapter. It means so much that you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> Alpha thanks to Kyonomiko; mistakes are my own.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione had a date. Between keeping busy with her placement and mostly staying in otherwise, she hadn't met very many people in Paris, if she was honest. Only a month and a half remained of her time before she would return to London, and she had wanted to at least _try_ to meet someone.

His name was Pierre, and he worked in the department she had taken a position with, although they'd had little cause to speak to one another. So it had been surprising, but not altogether unwelcome, when he had approached her earlier in the week. Never mind that his English wasn't the _greatest_.

A quiet tap came on the door of her flat, and when she opened the door, Pierre stood in the corridor, idly staring around. He flashed her a grin.

"Come in," Hermione murmured with a quick press of the lips, "I just need a moment."

Pierre nodded and said, "Yes." He stood calmly beside the door, hands folded at his front and a banal smile on his lips as she slipped on her cloak and collected her purse.

Startled, she looked up at another knock on the door—although this one she recognised. She halted, frozen, as her heart jumped in her chest and a flicker of consternation crossed Pierre's brow before he reached for the handle.

Before Hermione could do anything other than gape, the door swung open.

Draco stood on the other side, and while surprise and excitement chased through her, simultaneously her heart sank. His expression looked wearied, but his shoulders straightened as she approached the door, his eyes widening.

For a long moment, no one said anything. A bottle of wine hung limply at his side, and his lips snapped shut. With an uneasy grin, he murmured, "Suppose I should have owled."

"Draco," Hermione said, snapping to the present. "I didn't realise—"

But he turned towards Pierre with a stiff nod. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You two have a wonderful evening." His forced smile didn't reach his eyes as his gaze shifted to her. He opened his mouth to say something more, but only managed another nod.

It was odd to see him out of sorts, when more often than not, he could talk his way through any situation. But she could see the strain around his eyes and frowned.

Before she could say anything, he retreated down the corridor and she heard the distant _pop_ of Apparition.

"Sorry," she huffed, with a bit of an awkward laugh. "That was my friend Draco from back home. I didn't realise he was coming for a visit."

But Pierre looked uneasy and offered her only a flash of teeth that came across more like a grimace, and honestly, she couldn't blame him. The scenario must have appeared _incredibly_ uncomfortable, and she found herself wondering after Draco. Pierre ducked in, pressing a brief kiss to her cheek, before he said, "I will go—see you at work."

Her heart sank as Pierre edged towards the door. She managed a quiet, "I'm sorry, I swear it isn't like that. He and I are old friends."

With a noncommittal sort of shrug, he offered her one last grin and ventured back down the hall, the same way Draco had gone.

Releasing a long sigh, Hermione closed the door and sank down into the sofa. It was probably for the best, anyways, considering her conversational French needed work, and his English was tenuous at best.

But now she had no way of telling where Draco had gone, and what had left him looking like he carried the weight of the world. At this time of night, she wouldn't be able to get an international Portkey even if she wanted to, but of course, she didn't know whether he had returned to England or not.

Drawing her wand, she summoned a Patronus and sent it to find him, asking him to come back.

An hour later, having heard nothing back, Hermione crawled into bed, a harsh emptiness in her chest.

* * *

After three weeks of her letters returning, unopened, Hermione felt a cold dread lingering in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know whether Draco wasn't receiving her letters, or simply wasn't accepting them.

Her placement in Paris had ended several weeks early, and it was with genuine relief that she returned home to her small flat in London. The position hadn't been _terrible_ , but she preferred her work in London—even though it was often dry and tedious—and she had missed her friends back home.

Mostly, she missed Draco, though she wouldn't have admitted that to Harry.

Paris had been fantastic in itself, of course, and she enjoyed spending time abroad, but there was simply something missing, and she had started to feel a creeping dissatisfaction with her work. Despite her best efforts, she would never be able to have a significant impact on the creature populations whose lives she sought to improve.

The placement in France had only solidified what she had already begun to suspect over the last years.

Even so, a smile tugged on her lips when she dropped her bags inside the door of her flat, collapsing into the sofa. It was nice to be home; with a wary eye she glanced at her things, and after a wave of her wand, they drifted towards her room to unpack themselves.

After relaxing for several minutes, her thoughts once more drifted to Draco. Had he been so upset with her, that night in Paris, that he simply hadn't wanted to speak with her? When she saw him briefly, he had seemed genuinely distraught, and not because she had a date.

Although a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if that was a part of it.

Regardless, it was immature and petty of him to _ignore_ her letters, especially since she had been unaware of his visit.

Even so, a slow trail of guilt crept through her that she hadn't made herself more available to visit London during the duration of her placement, but she hadn't been granted enough days off to make it worthwhile.

Rising and walking towards the grate, Hermione frowned as she threw a handful of Floo powder down, initiating a Floo call. After an extended pause on the other end, the green flames vanished. No answer.

Her frown deepened. Avoidance wasn't his forte, even if he was upset with her; he was too confrontational for that. The hint of worry that had lingered below the surface of her skin, for the first time, surged to the forefront of her mind.

She Apparated to his building, gnawing her bottom lip as she took the lift to his floor, and rapped sharply on his door once she'd arrived. After lingering overlong for several minutes, knocking three more times, she sighed and leaned back against the door.

Draco could have gone to the Manor—but she quickly dismissed the thought. He so rarely visited his childhood home; she knew he couldn't handle the memories very well.

Disappointment churning in her gut, she returned home and activated the Floo once more.

Moments later, Harry's face appeared in the flames, his black hair dishevelled and a wide, boyish grin spread across his face. "Hermione!" he exclaimed, and she returned the smile, sinking down to the floor in front of him. "You're back in London already? We weren't expecting you yet."

"Home early," she said, fixing him with a stare. "You're alright?"

"Great!" Harry exclaimed. "Come on through?"

After only a moment's hesitation, she nodded, and when Harry's face retreated from the flames, Hermione crossed through into Grimmauld Place. She barely had time to look around before she was swept into Harry's arms, her face buried in his chest, and moisture stung at her eyes as she returned the embrace.

At last he drew away, holding her out by the arms as if to observe her. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," Hermione said, flashing him a teasing grin. "It's only been five months."

"Still," Harry retorted.

As her eyes slid to the side, she found Theo, mouth twisted to the side and hands slipped into his pockets. His expression shifted to a soft, secretive smile, and he said, "Hey Hermione."

"Theo," she returned, pulling him in for a brief embrace as well. "I can't say I'm surprised to find you here."

Some of the tension sunk from the man's shoulders and his grin widened. "Draco told you, I'm assuming?"

"He did," she affirmed, shooting Harry a look. "Although I ought to have heard from the source."

Sweeping a hand along the back of his neck, Harry flushed red. "Right."

Hermione softened, looking between them. "I'm happy for you. And of course, we all saw it coming." Harry and Theo exchanged a glance. "Speaking of Draco—where is he?"

For whatever reason, she and Draco had never sought to tell their respective best friends about the vow, and the idea of it had never come up in conversation. They received enough suggestive comments as it was, and if their friends knew that they might wind up magically betrothed to one another, it would be a whole different sort of hassle.

Neither of them had brought it up since their brief agreement to keep it private. Because most likely, it would never come to fruition anyways.

Theo frowned. "He's been away for a couple weeks now. I think he went to visit his mother."

"Of course," Hermione groaned, shaking her head. "Where is Narcissa these days?"

The Malfoys had a number of estates beyond Malfoy Manor. After Lucius' incarceration, Narcissa had been observed for a measure of time, but she was free to travel, and she had opted to leave the Manor behind. Every so often, she would relocate to another of the properties.

Pondering for a moment, Theo made a face. "Lisbon?" His expression shifted, and he quipped, "I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

Hermione didn't know what to make of the idle hint beneath Theo's tone, and she merely shrugged. "He must have forgotten to mention it."

With a clap of his hands, Harry jarred her from her thoughts. "Are you staying for a cuppa?"

Distracted, Hermione shook her head. "I've still got to finish unpacking. Another time soon?"

"Of course." The pair of them exchanged another look—they had a way of communicating without words that had unnerved her for years, even before they had evidently admitted their interest in one another—and Hermione offered a brief smile.

"I'll see you both very soon. We'll do drinks at the Leaky?" At her expectant stare, they both nodded.

Quietly, Harry said, "It's nice to have you back," before she Apparated to the Ministry.

* * *

Two hours later, after wrangling a favour with the administrative assistant at the Department of International Travel, Hermione found herself some distance outside of Lisbon, Portugal, staring up at the large Malfoy villa.

She had been to visit the estate once before, but even so, a thrill of nerves swept through her. Her presence was uninvited, and Draco obviously hadn't answered any of her letters—although she now realised her owl wouldn't have found him here.

Drawing a quick breath for courage, she tapped on the front door, waiting on the wrap-around patio. Moments later, a house elf opened the door, clad in Malfoy livery, and blinked up at her.

"Hello," Hermione began, clearing her throat. "I was looking for Draco Malfoy."

It wasn't an elf she recognised, although they had many, and his eyes tightened briefly before nodding. "Patroclus will fetch Master Draco."

A sigh of relief escaped her; at least she had located him, and he was presumably alive and well.

Wide-eyed with surprise, Draco appeared in the doorway a minute or so after the elf had disappeared. A slow smile curled his lips, before spreading into a full grin, and she found herself engulfed in his arms.

Eyes fluttering shut as relief swept over her, she wrapped her arms around his middle, feeling the rhythm of his heart against her face as she held onto him, unwilling to let go until he extracted from her hold.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, disbelief lingering in his expression. "Aren't you supposed to be still in France?"

Realising they were still in the doorway, he stepped outside, slipping his hands into his pockets as he idly led her onto the grounds.

"My placement ended early," Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip as she glanced his way. "And you haven't answered any of my owls, so I had to be sure you were alright. I'm sorry to just come by like this—Theo told me where you were."

Draco scoffed, but with a hint of humour. "Of course I'm alright. I haven't been back home so I didn't receive any owls. Are _you_ alright?"

"Yes." Turning to face him, she frowned, a knit pulling the skin between her brows. "When you came to Paris and left—you looked like something was wrong."

She might have missed the flicker of a grimace that crossed his face if she hadn't been watching him so intently. "It was nothing. I shouldn't have interrupted your date—looked like a nice bloke."

Waving him off, she carried on walking. "We didn't end up going out after all." His expression turned contrite, and before he could say anything, she added, "It wasn't anything—he didn't even speak much English."

Draco didn't answer for a long moment until he snickered. "You've done worse. Remember the one who only spoke Polish, and you had to cast translation spells on him to get through dinner."

Her nose wrinkled as she shot him a look. "I'd been trying to forget." Keen to change the subject, she added, "How's your mother doing?"

"Good." He nodded. "The Portuguese sun agrees with her."

Hermione took careful, measured steps on the cobbles that led from the villa deeper into the estate, considering her words. The last she had heard, Draco was actively brokering an arrangement in London, so it made no sense for him to have spent the last number of weeks in Portugal.

Wryly, he drawled, "Just say it."

"Did something happen with the property in Diagon?" she asked, casting him a sidelong glance.

"Of course," he murmured, though his tone was flippant. "I expected them to back out—but it still stung."

A cold, quiet fury simmered within her on his behalf, and she shook her head, grinding her teeth together. "I cannot believe, that after all these years, people _still_ —"

"Hermione," he said, quietly cutting her off. "It's fine."

"It isn't fine!" she exclaimed, staring him down despite the discrepancy in height. "It's discriminatory, and—"

"And the wizarding world has _always_ been that way."

She didn't miss the deeper sentiment lingering in his stare.

Although his words were quiet, and his expression stoic, she could see the defeat in the set of his shoulders, the same as he had carried the night he had come to visit her in Paris.

At last she whispered, "I'm sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to it. And… I'm sorry I wasn't there for you that night you came to visit." With a hint of accusation, she added, "I _did_ send you a Patronus."

"Yeah," he huffed with a sigh. "I know."

Hermione could sense his melancholy, and for as much as she wanted to push the subject, she let it drop. Gazing out towards the estate, she asked, "How long are you planning on staying here?"

He answered with a brief shrug. "I haven't decided yet. When do you have to go back to work?"

The thought of returning to her desk at the Ministry buried a pit in her stomach and she frowned at the thought. "Not until next week."

Brows raised, he fixed her with a stare. "So you're staying, right? Mother will be happy to see you." Before she could even open her mouth to retort, he cracked a grin. "Don't even bother—you're staying."

She clamped her jaw shut, linking her arm with his, and felt some of the tension drain from her at last.

* * *

"Hermione!" Narcissa exclaimed, approaching her with hands aloft. As the woman planted a kiss to each of her cheeks Hermione returned the gesture, before Narcissa held her at a distance and cast an appraising stare down the length of her. "It's wonderful to see you."

"What she means is," Draco drawled, "she's tired of my moping."

Narcissa's lips tweaked with humour. "That is also true. But it's been too long since I've seen you, dear."

"And you," Hermione mused, settling into a seat in the sitting room. "I've been in Paris for a research placement with their Ministry, and I have a few days before I have to return to my job in London so Draco's invited me to stay."

"Of course he has," Narcissa responded, something unreadable etched into her expression. "Shall I have Patroclus prepare a guest room?"

A flush crept up her throat into her cheeks at the implications, and Hermione nodded. "Yes, please."

In her earlier haste to locate Draco and to ensure he was alright, she hadn't even considered preparing an overnight bag. It had been short-sighted, but Draco had taken her into a nearby village to pick up some essentials.

He dropped down onto the sofa beside her as Narcissa directed Patroclus in preparing a room, and a second elf magically wheeled a tea cart into the room and set about preparing tea.

Stretching an arm along the back of the sofa, Draco turned towards her. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too," Hermione admitted, with a bit of a self-deprecating smile. "Honestly, I don't think the placement in Paris was quite what I was hoping for. Or maybe it's just reminded me that the work I'm doing is never going to have the impact I'm hoping for."

A furrow knit the skin between his brows as he stared down at her. "Are you thinking of leaving the Ministry?"

She offered a noncommittal shrug with a hint of a grimace. "I don't know what else I would do."

Draco barked a laugh coloured with disbelief. "You could do anything you wanted, Granger."

Every so often, he reverted back to calling her by her surname, although over the years it had become more of a teasing pet name than anything else. For some reason, the low drawl of it set a shiver coursing through her spine as her eyes tightened.

"I don't know," she mused, dropping her head back against the sofa; his arm curled around her shoulders, tugging her closer. "I _suppose_ I could look into other options—I've just been doing this for so long already."

Clicking his tongue, he said, "And that's no reason to keep doing something if it no longer makes you happy. Change isn't a bad thing, you know."

When she glanced up, Hermione noticed Narcissa had vacated the room; whether with Patroclus, she couldn't remember. She took a quick sip of the tea the second elf had prepared for her; it was exactly as she liked.

"Maybe you're right."

"Of _course_ I'm—"

With a jab of her elbow into his ribs he fell silent, scowling.

Taking another sip of her tea, she looked around with a smile. "It's lovely here." Before he could respond, she added, "You're coming back to London with me, right?"

Draco released a long-suffering sigh, his fingers tightening around her arm. "I guess I will. I'll have to face society again at some point. Try again from the start."

"I believe in you," she breathed, facing away from him. "And I know you're going to make this happen."

"Right."

The word was dull, as if with disbelief, and she turned towards him. "You _are_. Do you want to know how I know?"

His lips twitched. "How?"

"Because you've come so far already. You haven't put in this much effort to walk away now." Taking a deep, steadying breath, she clutched her ceramic cup tighter. "I can see it, and others will as well. And regardless of anything else… I'm proud of you."

Draco only stared at her for a long moment, something veiled in his eyes, his expression unreadable. Under the intensity of his stare, she fidgeted with her cup, feeling uneasy, before his lips at last tilted with a hint of recognition.

The air shifted and he planted a kiss to the top of her head. When he glanced away, she thought his eyes were glossy, but he didn't say anything.

* * *

As it turned out, a few days away from work and the bustle of society was just what Hermione needed, and she felt a cool hint of dread creep into her at the thought of returning to London the next day for work. They had arranged a Portkey for early in the morning.

It had been invaluable to spend some time with her best friend, and while she could still see the cloud of gloom that followed him around over the failed negotiations in Diagon Alley, he seemed to brighten by the day.

They had dined each evening with Narcissa, but otherwise she largely left them to their own devices, and for Hermione it was reminiscent of younger times when she would visit Harry and Ron at the Burrow during the summer. Before everything shifted, of course.

Still, it was lighthearted enough that she felt a peace settle in her soul with Draco by her side, and on their last evening in Portugal, she found herself longing to stay.

The villa was a walkable distance to the ocean and she wandered the path at his side, until the cobbles gradually dropped off to wild grasses and she could hear the spray of the ocean before they reached the beach.

Hermione wrapped an arm around his back, tucking into his side when he drew her closer, and they quietly observed the rolling waves as they broke on the shoreline. The sky was a dark indigo, the moon shining full and silver as it reflected off the waves.

"I'm glad we've had this time together," she mused, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Just to relax."

"Me too," Draco murmured, gaze fixed on the water. "After your birthday, I wasn't sure if something was wrong between us."

"No." The word was a whisper and awoke a twist in her stomach. "Everything was fine."

She still hadn't quite come to terms with the way she had reacted to seeing him with his date, Beth, and if she was honest, she'd made a point of not thinking about it. Because he was her friend, and he'd never hinted at anything more between them, and she had no intentions of ruining their friendship over it.

Especially if anything he felt for her was platonic in nature, the last thing she needed to do was make him uncomfortable. And she wasn't sure if _she_ had any romantic feelings towards him, when they had been so close for so many years.

It simply wasn't worth damaging what they had.

At last he said, "Yeah. Come on." Draco pulled her further onto the beach, out of range of the damp sand where the tide washed up, and dragged her to sit alongside him. A cool breeze floated off the ocean, but she felt comfortable by his side.

When he slung an arm across her shoulders, she dropped her head to his chest on instinct, the steady beat of his heart soothing her.

Maybe the lines had been blurred between them for so long that it just felt natural at this point. The casual, platonic touches. The drive to protect and look out for him.

Quietly, he breathed, "I missed you."

Snuggling further into her chest, she realised how true the words were. "I missed you too. Even more than I thought I would."

"Next time you leave the country," he drawled, "you're taking me with you. No excuses."

A soft smile tugged at her lips. "Fine."

Someday, everything between them would change. One of them would meet someone—although Hermione was starting to suspect it was more likely to be him. Because as time went on, she wasn't entirely certain what she wanted anymore.

With every man she had dated in the past years, she hadn't felt as comfortable as she did right at that moment, secure in Draco's hold. The thought caused a flush to rise in her cheeks, and she was grateful for the dark of night so it wouldn't be so obvious.

But it was true. Maybe she ought to have guarded herself more carefully—but he had been her best friend for years. It only made sense that she felt more comfortable with him than with men she barely knew.

"I can feel your mind going," Draco mused at her side, glancing down at her. "What are you thinking?"

She didn't have the heart to lie to him as she released a sigh. "Just that everything is going to change between us one day."

So quietly, she wasn't certain whether he even meant her to hear, he breathed, "It doesn't have to."

Hermione's eyes swivelled towards him and he was already watching her, a hint of sadness in his brow. She opened her mouth to say something—she didn't even know what—but clamped her lips shut with a thick swallow. Something in the way he stared at her stirred warmth in her being; he was so close, his arm around her so sure.

As if the grey depths of his eyes held the answers to everything she didn't know, she couldn't tear her own from his, the air between them heavy with questions.

His face was so close, the minty warmth of his breath mingling with her own.

He was going to kiss her.

It was the only thought that made any sense as it danced through her mind. And her own— _she wanted him to_.

Hermione blinked, startled, at the obtrusiveness of the thought, and it was enough to break the moment between them. A huff of breath escaped his lips and he looked away, shifting alongside her so as to put space between them.

With an anxious cadence, her heart raced in awareness of what had almost occurred, and Hermione found herself unable to look at him. Her shoulders were high with tension, and while she didn't withdraw from his hold, she might as well have at the sudden chill between them.

He had been about to kiss her—she was certain of it. Or had he?

Had her reaction pushed him away, or had he simply realised it was a bad idea?

They remained on the beach in silence, but Hermione could tell from his disposition that she had lost him, his mind miles away. Finally he released her, shifting away to plant his hands behind him in the coarse sand as he stared up at the moon.

All he said was, "We ought to head back. It'll be an early morning tomorrow."

Hermione didn't trust herself to speak; she could only manage a tight nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading everyone! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and thanks for all the lovely comments! I have a bad feeling some of you want to come after me right now sooo... see you in five days! XD
> 
> Alpha love and hearts to Kyonomiko


	4. Chapter 4

As Hermione settled back into her routine in London, the uneasy dissatisfaction she had felt in Paris lingered. Even though she had been able to get lots of good research on the bicorn populations, she felt as if she were simply going through the motions as she prepared a report for her superiors in the department.

It didn't help that Draco had been distant since they had returned from Portugal. The morning they were set to depart he had been stiff and uncommunicative, and in the week that followed, she hadn't seen him at all.

Hermione had owled him to arrange some time to meet up that weekend, but his response had been brief and noncommittal.

Although she still wasn't entirely certain what had occurred between them on the beach the last night in Portugal, she suspected it had something to do with his current coolness towards her. And she didn't know whether she had done something wrong, or whether he was simply processing things on his own terms.

While in Portugal, things between them had been great. They had been able to communicate better than they had since before her birthday, and she had felt them fall into the easy groove of friendship once more.

Maybe there were some romantic undertones—the warm days spent in one another's company, the cool evening strolls—but since they had become close, she had always been comfortable with him.

Even in his embrace, and neither of them shied away from platonic touches.

Their closeness had even pushed away more than one potential suitor over the years.

But she didn't think she was imagining that the lines between them had felt a little blurrier than usual, especially that last night on the beach when he had all but leaned in.

Draco had never indicated a romantic or sexual interest in her, and she wasn't certain what to make of it.

More importantly, had he taken something from her reaction? She couldn't even remember the moments that had followed, other than something had shifted and he had retracted once more.

The thought had lingered in the back of her mind since their icy Portkey trip home: if he had kissed her, how would she have responded?

It didn't matter, she supposed, since it was hypothetical. And now, clearly, whatever had happened—or not happened—between them in Portugal was gone.

The spring days in London were tempered with a dreary, persistent rain, dragging Hermione's mood down along with the grey clouds overhead. It was Friday evening, and after a long day at the Ministry, she was able to escape to the relative peace of her own flat.

Draco hadn't reached out all week, and she had no plans other than to curl up in the armchair in front of the fire with a pot of tea and a good book.

It was nice to be home, to a certain extent, but since she'd returned everything just felt a little flat.

* * *

Hermione jolted upright at a knock at the door—quiet but unmistakable. Setting her book down, she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth and called, "Come in."

After an awkward, prolonged pause wherein she could hear the rattling of the handle, the wards dropped and the door opened. Lifting a brow, Hermione rose to her feet and ignored the swooping in her stomach as Draco made his way into her flat, a slightly unfocused look to him.

Adjusting his tie, he looked up. "Hello."

"Hi," she returned with a thin press of her lips. "How are you?"

"Fine."

By the lingering drawl to his words, Hermione could tell he had been drinking; it explained his difficulty in disarming her wards, which he could do in his sleep. She couldn't help the words from escaping. "Have you been out?"

"Nope." He popped the 'p' sound on his lips, sinking into her sofa.

Given the way things had been awkward the last time they had seen one another, and how his owls all week had been unhelpful, she didn't know what to make of the situation. And now he had simply invited himself into her flat, brooding.

"Can I get you something?" She fought the urge to scowl at his poor disposition; clearly he was there for a reason, and something must have driven him to drink alone. "Some water, perhaps?"

But he dragged a hand through his already mussed hair, shaking his head. "Wouldn't say no to something stronger."

Hermione wished he would explain himself, but she knew if the tables were turned, he would have obliged her. And he _had,_ in fact, more than once. So she strode into the kitchen, withdrawing a bottle of firewhisky and two tumblers, before returning and pouring a measure for each of them.

Draco accepted his glass with a nod and threw it back in one.

It was _his_ hangover.

As she poured him another portion she asked, lightly, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"What _isn't_ wrong?"

He had always been prone to melodrama, so Hermione clicked her tongue, leaning back and taking a sip from her own glass while she waited for him to elaborate.

At last, he sighed. "I thought I had another potential shot at Diagon, but that's fallen apart too. It's like someone is persuading everyone _not_ to do business with me. I am prepared to _throw_ galleons at a piece of land, Hermione. I don't even care how many."

"I know you are," she mused quietly, shifting closer. "It isn't fair."

"And I don't—" Cutting himself off, his jaw hardened. "I don't want Knockturn."

Hermione understood his reasoning well enough, and if she was honest, she didn't want him to settle for Knockturn Alley either, although they both knew he could set up his apothecary there next week.

"I know how important this is to you," she said with a sigh.

Diagon Alley was the way to prove to himself that he had changed—that he had come further than people realised—and she knew it was about so much more than land to him.

Draco stared at the amber liquid in his glass for a long moment, a knit between his brows. "Yeah."

She stared at him for a long moment, hating the defeat in his eyes. "Is there anything I can do to help sort this out?"

It wasn't the first time she had offered, loathe though she knew he was to accept her pulling any strings on his behalf. And she knew how important it was to him that he make his own way, out from behind his father's shadow and his wrongdoings as a youth. But she felt his pain implicitly as her own, and couldn't stand to see him in such a state.

He took another sip of whisky, grimacing. "No. But I appreciate you allowing me to vent."

Hermione nodded slowly, casting him a sidelong glance. As much as she didn't want to confront the elephant in the room, their friendship had never taken the easy route. She took a swig of her own drink and said, "You've been avoiding me. Since Portugal."

"Have not," he clipped. Snickering, she didn't respond. Finally he grumbled, "I've had a lot on my mind."

"Such as…" She fixed him with a stare. "Avoiding me since Portugal?"

Draco scowled, chewing on his tongue for a moment. "Fine."

Although she could feel her heart pounding obnoxiously in her chest, Hermione did her best to draw in a long, steadying breath. She had never felt right leaving things to stew between them, especially with the important things. And she didn't think he was so drunk the significance wouldn't measure.

"Are we going to talk about the fact that we almost kissed?"

"If you insist we talk about that," he began idly, though she could see the tension in his jaw, "all that needs to be said is that people are _never_ going to accept me. Not the way I'd like them to, and not the way you think they should."

His tone carried the finality of a closed conversation, and Hermione frowned. "And that's relevant to the discussion, how?"

"Oh, you know." She felt ire grow within her at his flippancy—it was clear he was trying to downplay the situation, and she couldn't figure out why. "Given the heart of the matter revolves around some blasted drunken vow we made years ago without any forethought. And if you get stuck with me, I know you'll come to regret it."

"Draco," she ground out, "if there's something—"

"There isn't," he snapped, and his expression fell at the hurt she knew crossed her face, his tone softening in an instant. "There _can't_ be."

She felt a chill creep into her very bones and managed a nod. "So you don't want things to play out that way."

He set his empty glass down and stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable in his grey stare that caused her stomach to roll and twist with unease. Hermione didn't know what she was even hoping for him to say. He was her best friend, and following this line of thought could cause irreparable damage to everything.

Finally he sighed, sweeping a hand through his hair again. "When the difference is between you being happy with someone else, or being stuck with a social pariah like me. No, I don't."

Despite the nausea in her stomach, the flare of embarrassment in her cheeks, she stared him down. "That isn't a proper answer."

Hoarsely, he asked, "What do you want me to say?"

Swallowing, she measured her words for a long moment, her tongue feeling thick and cumbersome in her mouth. Her head felt warm and dizzy and she wished she hadn't had any firewhisky.

"I just want," she breathed at last, "you to say what you actually think. If nothing else mattered."

On the sofa between them, Draco's hand found hers, wrapping tightly around her smaller one. He watched as she entwined their fingers, her heart racing in her throat.

"Hermione," he breathed, dragging their joined hands to his mouth; in a gentle whisper of a kiss, his lips brushed the back of her hand. "You know how much I care about you."

She couldn't manage the raging pulse in her chest, her mouth dry and eyes wide.

But he glanced away, gently releasing her hand. "I'll be twenty-nine soon. Which means you have a year to find someone. Because unfortunately… everything else _does_ matter."

Her hand remained on the sofa, limply reaching towards his, her spirit deflated and shoulders sinking into the sofa. A small part of her wanted to push the matter, while the rest simply wanted to disappear. She didn't have any words left, and couldn't comprehend the myriad of emotions racing through her.

Draco pursed his lips, staring across the room. "I should go. I'll owl soon, yeah?"

Plastering her best attempt at a smile onto her lips, Hermione offered a stuttering nod and muttered, "Yeah."

When he rose to his feet, his eyes a little glassy, she couldn't meet his gaze. When he planted a soft kiss to her forehead before exiting through the Floo, she couldn't help the thought that it felt like a goodbye.

The thought left her cold.

* * *

He didn't owl.

In fact, Draco didn't reach out to her for weeks, and Hermione didn't have the heart to attempt to reconcile things. Not when he had been so blatant about the fact that he didn't want to wind up with her. She knew, in her heart, that Draco would treat her better than anyone else; that even though they didn't always get along, she cared about him more than anyone she could possibly find in the next year.

And even though the two of them had never been romantic with one another, it felt like such a minor step, when they were already so close.

But no matter his reasoning, she couldn't shake the rejection. It stung in a way she hadn't even anticipated, and it left her wondering whether her feelings _had_ run deeper than she had realised.

As the weeks dragged past, Hermione felt the disinterest in her job growing, and she felt a cold despair sink into her soul. She wanted so desperately to talk to Draco—to share a bottle of wine and drink and laugh their cares away, because he always reminded her that he was by her side.

Now, though… she had never felt so alone.

Before she knew it, the warm breeze of the late spring bled into June, and it was Draco's twenty-ninth birthday. She had never dreaded the vow coming to fruition, partly because it had felt so distant and abstract.

But she had just a year to find someone. And with the way she and Draco were at odds, it finally felt real. She _did_ have to find someone if he didn't want to marry her, because she wouldn't force him into something he didn't want.

A year felt like such a short time, in the context of finding someone with whom she would want to spend the rest of her life.

Theo and Harry had sent her an invitation to Draco's birthday party, since he hadn't chosen to invite her himself—but that would have required actually speaking to her, and so she wasn't surprised. She had all but decided she wasn't going to attend, despite that no one else knew they were estranged.

But at Harry's insistence, she had decided to go after all.

She had no interest in attending solo because Draco had made it very apparent he wanted her to meet someone so the vow wouldn't come to pass. Hermione hadn't been on a date since Paris—which, if she was honest, hadn't been a date either—but she dug through the Ministry to find someone willing to attend the party at her side.

It was awkwardly reminiscent of her twenty-ninth birthday party, when she had scrounged up a date so she wouldn't have to attend alone when Draco was bringing someone.

Hermione didn't expect this to go any better.

The man she had invited was a barrister with the Wizengamot's office named Barney. He was caring and polite, and if she hadn't been so caught up in her inner turmoil over Draco, he might have been the sort of man she would actually have chosen for herself.

The irony of the situation ran deep.

Barney was well-educated, well-dressed, and had spent the evening at her side, attentive and easy to talk to. He could have parried a stimulating debate with certainty and assertiveness, she was sure of it. Hermione found herself loathing the situation, because he deserved her attention in return, but she found she was simply unable to reciprocate.

Not when she found her gaze flitting across the room every few minutes to where Draco stood with his date. The only consolation was that they looked as miserable as she felt, and when his date drifted away into the crowd, Draco remained on his own with Theo.

He had managed a tight smile when she arrived, and her half-hearted "Happy birthday" had been met with a nod and a forced grin.

Then she had retreated to a table with her date and proceeded to drown herself in champagne.

"Look, Hermione," Barney said, drawing her from her brooding thoughts with hesitation. "I think you're great."

She pressed her lips into a thin attempt at a smile. "I'm not being a very good date, am I?"

Chuckling, he looked down. "I thought it was something I'd said." Before she could respond, he went on. "But then I realised you're in love with someone else, and I can't compete with that."

"I'm not—" she began, but the words dropped from her lips at the sympathy in his stare.

"I understand," he said quietly, finishing his drink. "Trust me—I've been in the same situation, and I'll stay if you want me to." A wry grin crept across his face, and Hermione was struck by the thought that he really _was_ attractive. He would be a good match for her, if circumstances were truly different. "I'll even laugh at your jokes and be an excellent conversationalist."

Hermione managed a consolatory smile, feeling moisture sting at her eyes.

"But," Barney went on, rising from his seat, "I feel like I'm only going to do more harm to the situation."

She whispered, "I'm sorry."

When she glanced up, Draco still stood with Theo and Harry, his date having vanished entirely.

"Don't be," Barney quipped, "like I said, I've been there."

Deciding to put his words about _love_ to the back of her mind, she rose to her feet, giving him an embrace. His lips brushed her temple when she whispered, "Thank you for understanding. I'm sorry for leading you on."

Across the room, Draco's stare lingered on her before he glanced away.

Barney only flashed her another grin when he drew back. "Go after him. You're a catch—he'd only be so lucky."

The words only deepened the doubt that had lingered in her stomach since the last time she had seen Draco. When he had held her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Managing a genuine smile, she whispered, "Good night. I'll see you around the Ministry."

As Barney walked from the room, Hermione stared at him for a moment before retreating to the bar for a refill, keeping her gaze fixed away from Draco. After she paid the sickles for her beverage, she turned to find Theo in her face, his expression unimpressed.

"You and I," he muttered, coiling a hand around her elbow, "need to talk."

Hermione wheeled on the spot, and noticed Draco and Harry had both vanished from where the three of them had been standing. Her head spun with the alcohol she'd consumed and she allowed Theo to drag her to a booth near the back of the pub, away from the crowd.

Disgruntled at being manhandled, Hermione huffed as she slid along the upholstered seat. "What is it?"

Theo folded his arms, staring at her for a long moment. "What's wrong with you and Draco?"

"Nothing," she said, the word coming out choked and high-pitched. When Theo merely raised a brow, she sighed. It was obvious they were on the outs, especially to someone who knew him so well, and a bred Slytherin no less. "We're just not getting along right now."

"You two are _sickening_ in how well you get along. Draco won't tell me what happened, so you are going to instead."

Hermione ground her teeth, irritated at his commanding tone, but all the fight sank from her in an instant. It would be nice to have a friend about now. She wondered where Harry was, but Theo had more of an invested interest in Draco.

Despite her reservations—and likely due to the excess of alcohol—she found herself spilling the entire story.

From the night they had made the imbecilic vow, the visit in Paris, the time they'd spent in Portugal, and right down to the last conversation they had in her flat. Although sharing the story brought fresh misery to the forefront, it also felt good to release some of the stress she had been carrying over the situation.

Theo had listened intently, his expression distraught, but he didn't speak until she was through and cast him a wary glance.

"So," Theo hedged, considering her for a moment. "You don't know whether you want to marry Draco, but you aren't opposed to it if it happens that way. But Draco doesn't want it to happen because he thinks he isn't good enough for you."

With a short nod, she announced, "That sums it up, yes."

"And as a result, you've both walked away from your friendship over it? Won't that make things awkward if you _do_ both end up single a year from now?"

"Probably." Uncertain how to answer anything more, she stared at her empty glass. "I didn't walk away—he did."

Theo released a sigh, leaning back in his seat. "Here's how I see it. You're both here, miserable, because you aren't speaking. Whether or not you want to fuck one another is irrelevant, because you're clearly both moping around."

She blinked rapidly. Leave it to Theo to be as crude as he could manage.

But he went on. "You both brought a date tonight, to show the other you're moving on—or _something_ , Merlin only knows—but yet you've both ditched your dates before midnight."

"I couldn't show up alone," she scoffed. "Not when he made such a big deal about wanting me to meet someone."

"Please," Theo muttered. "Anyone could tell you weren't enjoying yourself. Except Draco, of course, who suddenly has no sense of social nuance when it comes to you. Which infers that you shouldn't still be here talking to me." He paused, his expression pensive. "Of course, I know very little about the romantic affairs of women. Obviously."

Hermione released a sigh, dropping her face into her arms on the table. All the energy had been sucked from her and she only wanted to go home. "I don't know what you're saying."

"I'm saying you miss one other," Theo said, clicking his tongue. "And I'd go as far as to say you love one other, but what do I know."

That pesky word again. Hermione attempted to block it out as it bounced around her head.

"He doesn't want me," she found herself saying into her arms, the words muffled.

As if frustrated with her antics, Theo shook his head. "You just admitted to me that you don't even know if you want him."

Blowing out a breath, she thought about it for a moment. The despair she had felt after he extracted himself from her life. The warmth fluttering in her being when they had spent those days in Portugal, and even the first time he had come to visit her in Paris.

The way she had felt wrenched to pieces, seeing him at her birthday party with Beth.

Sitting up, she eyed Theo with caution. "I think I do."

Something like triumph flashed in Theo's hazel stare. "So _fight_ for him."

The words stirred something in the pit of her stomach, and she managed a brief nod, nerves and anticipation fighting for control of her mind. She rose to her feet along with Theo, offering a smile.

"Thanks, Theo," she breathed, just as Harry came up alongside them wearing a grin. She gave them both a quick hug before slipping back into the crowd.

Feeling bolstered by Theo's encouragement and the liquor in her veins, Hermione scoured the pub for the distinctive flash of blond hair she meant to find.

Theo was right. She would find him and he would have no choice but to talk through the situation with her. He had told her he cared about her, and if they had to marry one another in a year anyways, there was no harm in making her interests known, was there?

She was brave—she was courageous.

She skittered past Daphne and Pansy at a table near the bar; she could only imagine they were discussing the men at the club and had no interest in getting dragged into that at the moment. As she continued her search some of the fight seeped from her, as if into thin air, and by the time she came across Blaise Zabini, indecision had settled in once more.

"Have you seen Draco?" she asked, shouting a little over the noise.

"Yeah," Blaise shouted, nodding his head to the loud, unrelenting beat. "Left about twenty minutes ago."

A quick glance at the dance floor alerted Hermione to the fact that his date was still there, and something like relief shot through her at the thought that he had left alone. But still, the thought of it crept over her like ice, cooling any lingering remnants of determination.

Somehow she knew she wouldn't have the courage to go to his flat.

With a tight nod, she said, "Thanks, Blaise."

Blaise shot her a grin, nodding towards the dance floor. "Dance?"

"No, thank you," she said, clasping a hand around his arm. "I find I'm quite tired."

Something like recognition flashed in his stare, and his face softened before he nodded. "Yeah. Good night, Hermione."

She made her way towards the Floo grate at the far end of the pub, staring at a handful of Floo powder in her fist entirely too long as she debated her destination. If Draco had only just left, he would surely still be awake.

He wouldn't have a choice but to listen to her, and maybe they could finally sort out this massive rift between them that felt like little more than a poor miscommunication.

But she thought of the cool distance to his stare all night. The way he had hardly spoken two words to her, and even then, they had felt forced.

If he didn't want to see her—she didn't think she could handle that.

Theo's words echoed in the back of her mind. _So fight for him_.

There was no way to fight for someone if they didn't want the same things in return. And Draco had been very clear in his response the last time they had talked to one another. He didn't want to marry her unless it was their absolute last option.

Hermione wasn't going to force him to make her a priority if she wasn't who he wanted.

The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she realised the Floo powder had all slipped from her grasp into a pile on the floor.

Arms wound around her from behind, and she jumped until a flash of black hair stirred in her vision. It was Harry.

"Please don't do something sober Hermione will regret," he murmured in her ear.

Because of course Theo had told him—and of course he had read her intentions. She deflated, sinking into his hold, and dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. Releasing a ragged breath, she managed a nod with a watery sniffle.

"Talk to him tomorrow, yeah?" Harry went on. Her eyes slid to meet Theo's sympathetic ones, and she realised how pathetic she must have looked. Drunk and crying at a pub.

She had never been the type to become so fixated on a man that she would allow herself to devolve to this point. But Draco wasn't just any man. He was her best friend, and she couldn't fathom her life without him.

The last weeks of silence had been painful enough.

At last she whispered, "Okay," and found herself whisked away to Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
> 
> Alpha hearts to the wonderful Kyonomiko. Any mistakes are my own.


	5. Chapter 5

Gryffindor courage be damned.

In the light of day, with a fresh hangover throbbing in her skull, Hermione had meekly returned to her flat before Harry and Theo awoke, finding a vial of Draco's special accelerated hangover draught.

He had never told her what he added to the brew to make it so effective, but she was grateful for it now as the pain in her head and nausea in her stomach dissipated within minutes.

She thought of going to see Draco, and the idea of it left her cold and anxious. He had left the night before without saying goodbye—not that she should have expected him to, since he'd hardly spoken to her all night.

Maybe she was deluding herself into thinking she wasn't the only one who missed their friendship. Perhaps Draco was fine without her, going on with his life and his other friends.

If she were to arrive outside his door, and he didn't want to see her, she didn't know how she could get over the shame and rejection of it.

She desperately wished they could clear things up and act like adults about the situation, but she still couldn't wrap her mind around his utter avoidance of her. Maybe he simply wasn't attracted to her, and couldn't imagine being married to someone he had no sexual interest in.

Perhaps his words the last time they had spoken had simply been meant to let her down easy, and this was just the way things were between them now.

Hermione couldn't force herself to believe that, despite all the rotten things swirling around in her brain.

She couldn't convince herself to Apparate to his building. But after several cups of coffee, she did manage to gather the courage to send him an owl.

She only said that she was sorry she'd missed him the night before when he departed, and that she hoped they could meet someday soon for lunch. It was a non-romantic meal, and if he had any interest in rekindling their friendship, he couldn't say no to lunch.

Twenty minutes later, she received a letter in return.

_Noon. Mystico_.

_Draco_

Mystico was a new hotspot in Diagon Alley that the pair of them had been meaning to check out, but it had been difficult to get a reservation. She fought back a smile as she folded the parchment in two and tucked it away on her desk, before jumping in the shower.

The last thing she needed was to show up ragged from the night before.

* * *

Nerves had crept up steadily, and by a quarter to noon Hermione found herself worried over what she would say to Draco. After the night before, she was convinced she did have feelings for him, at least in some capacity.

Ultimately, she decided it was best if they discussed the situation rationally. It was long overdue, if she was honest. Having spent the last weeks estranged from one another, it was important to her that they sort out their friendship, because she wasn't interested in losing him.

The way he had looked at her the night before, cold and impassive, lingered in the back of her mind, sowing seeds of doubt. Maybe it wouldn't be her call to make.

But when she arrived at Mystico, learning he had somehow managed to get a coveted lunch reservation, at a table for two in a private section, she found him already there. Draco jumped to his feet, eyeing her carefully, but she merely strode forward, wrapping her arms around his middle.

She had missed him more than she had even realised.

And when he wrapped his arms around her in return, drawing her tightly against his chest, relief washed through her and settled in her heart. Hermione felt moisture stinging at the corners of her eyes, holding on for the prolonged moment wherein he simply held her.

At last she murmured into his chest, "I missed you."

Draco sighed, drawing back at last. Staring at her, a hint of warmth in his face, he said, "Last night reminded me how futile it is to try and live without you."

With a flutter in her chest at his words, Hermione eyed him as he swept in, pulling her chair out before retreating to his own. As he began flipping through a menu, she settled into her seat, taking a sip of water.

"Before you say anything," he mused, eyes snapping up to meet hers across the table. "I feel like an arse for last night."

Hermione released a long, slow breath. "So do I."

Setting the menu down, he leaned forward. "I apologise. Can we try to put it behind us? Your friendship is too important to me to let anything get between us."

His words registered clumsily, bouncing in the space around her brain, before she finally offered a voracious nod. "Of course. Consider it all forgotten." It felt cumbersome to force a swallow.

When Draco offered a genuine, relieved smile, she found herself searching out the depths of his eyes, grey with flecks of silver and light. Her heart stuttered briefly in her chest before she forced it down.

But his smile faltered, whether at something in her stare or within himself, and he took her hand into his for a moment. "I hope you know how important you are to me. Even if I'm not quite ready to face the reality of what could potentially happen a year from now."

His fingers felt firm around hers, his grip warm and assuring, and Hermione felt herself nod before glancing away. "Of course. And you."

" _Hermione_."

"Yes?" Heat and shame flooded her cheeks as she forced herself to meet his intense, penetrating stare once more. Something she couldn't quite read stared back at her.

Since they had been friends, he had always been able to see through her, to an unnerving extent.

Draco released a sigh, pursing his lips as he gave her hand another squeeze. Quietly, he murmured, "I _do_ love you, you know."

"I know." The words slipped past her lips before she could even consider the thought; she _did_ know, innately. Even when she wasn't certain about anything else, and even when they were going through a rough patch, it wasn't something she had to question.

But still, the word from his lips had embedded a deep, clenching unease in her chest.

With a thin press of his lips, he released her hand, evidently satisfied, before he picked up his menu once more. Hermione took a long sip of her water, her mouth papery and dry, and distracted herself with her own menu.

The prices were absurd, but when she opened her mouth to comment he spoke again, and his tone had shifted from sentimental to his usual affected drawl.

"I've been wanting to tell you about something," he mused, signalling their passing waiter.

Lifting expectant brows, Hermione waited while they both placed their orders, chewing her tongue.

Then Draco turned back towards her, a hint of something curling his lips as he stared at her. "How serious were you about that career shift?"

Hermione blinked, surprised at the question, before she shrugged. "I suppose I'm open to options. My current position with the Ministry isn't the path I'd like to follow forever."

She hadn't given the matter any serious thought since returning from Paris, and had simply been going through the motions while she and Draco had been on the rocks, grasping onto anything to keep her routine intact.

Leaning back in his seat, Draco interlocked his hands over his stomach. "I heard of something—a contact of mine while I've been attempting to negotiate a deal for the apothecary mentioned a position." He paused, as if for effect, a slow smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "Gringotts is hiring curse-breakers."

"Curse-breaking?" Hermione repeated, a thoughtful furrow pulling at her brows. "I can't say I've given it much thought. Isn't it notoriously difficult for anyone to get on with them?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're Hermione Granger."

She didn't respond because the idea had taken root in her mind; if she was honest, it _was_ an interesting thought. But she frowned. "Wouldn't it be dangerous?"

With a vague series of gestures, Draco said, "Probably. You just can't get yourself killed or I'll never forgive myself for bringing it up."

"Reassuring," she muttered, shooting him a scowl. "Fine, I'll consider it. Will you give me your contact's information?"

"Already taken care of," Draco clipped, matter-of-fact. "I owled him your name two days ago. Your reputation, of course, precedes you, love. I've got you an interview."

Hermione gaped at him, bewildered. Then she released a heavy breath, shaking her head. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"No," he announced, "you shouldn't be."

Their server returned with their meals, and during the interlude, Hermione thought on the idea further. It _was_ an idea she had considered long ago, but only vaguely, and she had never seen it as a viable path. It couldn't hurt to learn more though, and she could decide from there.

As Draco dug into his lunch, she found herself staring idly at him. When his eyes snapped up to hers, a smirk drifting across his lips, she managed a smile.

"Thanks, Draco."

His smirk shifted into something softer and more genuine. "You're welcome."

* * *

Draco was nothing if not true to his word, and two days later Hermione received an owl from one Luther Tennyson, inviting her to meet with him regarding curse-breaker training. Curious despite herself and the nerves that crept through her whenever she considered making such a significant change after so many years, she readily affirmed.

The thought of starting over at the bottom, a few months before turning thirty, left her uncomfortable. But the idea of carrying on in a position where she was no longer happy, and knew in her heart she would never be able to affect true change, was more unsettling than anything else.

So she ventured to Gringotts for an interview, dressed in her sharpest skirt and blouse, and found herself sequestered in an office with Tennyson. He looked to be in his late thirties, the hair at his temples flecked with hints of silver, and more soft-spoken than she would have expected from a man in charge of curse-breakers, which was a notoriously dangerous and secretive career.

His smile was oddly disarming, and he slipped on a pair of rectangular black frames as he assessed the transcript she had provided of her NEWT scores and subsequent employment experiences.

"Mister Malfoy has informed me," Tennyson murmured as he scanned the page, "that you are interested in enrolling in curse-breaker training."

"Possibly," Hermione rushed, then snagged her lower lip between her teeth at her response. "I… haven't quite decided yet."

"Of course." Tennyson's smile was warm and reassuring, and Hermione felt some of the tension about the meeting sink from her shoulders. "Well, I certainly won't pressure you at all, but we could use someone of your particular aptitudes." He paused for a moment, and she wondered to which _aptitudes_ he referred. Whether Draco had said something more, or if he simply knew of her role in the war so long ago.

Staring at her for a moment, Tennyson went on. "So you know what you'd be getting into—curse-breaker training is different from many disciplines, such as Auror training, in that beyond your basic training you would be learning mostly through real life scenarios at the side of a senior curse-breaker. We find it more… immersive, and ultimately more effective."

Hermione could remember, when Harry had undertaken Auror training, that much of his course work had been hypothetical situations. She nodded. "That sounds appropriate."

Tennyson set down the parchment, clasping his hands on his desk. "Miss Granger, I'll be frank. There are very few people in our world who aren't aware of your brilliance and your accomplishments. I am authorised and prepared to offer you a position with Gringotts today, if you're interested."

Surprised, her mouth fell open. "Mister Tennyson, I—" Shifting in her seat, she considered her next words. "I'm not sure whether Draco told you, but I'm presently employed with the Ministry of Magic."

"Of course," Tennyson said, waving a hand with a sort of roguish grin. "I wouldn't expect you to _accept_ today. Give it some thought, and if you should so decide, I'd be thrilled to have you on board. Quite truthfully, it is my belief that your talents are wasted behind a Ministry desk."

Hermione nodded, swallowing. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the confidence."

Tennyson rose from his seat and rounded the desk as she followed suit, before proffering his hand. Her brain felt in a bit of a haze over the sudden and real prospect of the job offer, and she shook his hand with a smile.

Holding her gaze, Tennyson quietly murmured, "I'll look forward to your owl."

From so close, she could see the flecks of green in his eyes, and she nodded once more. "Thank you for your time." Then she turned from the office, feeling a quake of nerves chase through her, even as a smile pulled at her lips.

* * *

With so many things to consider, Hermione found herself drifting along the main road of Diagon Alley after her interview—which had been less of an interview and more of a carte blanche offer—trapped deep in her own thoughts.

Was she truly ready to leave the relative comfort of her position at the Ministry, and brave something new and potentially dangerous?

She stopped for a sandwich at Fortescue's—they had expanded their offerings upon re-opening after the war—and stopped into a few of the shops lining the grand street.

It was in the small apothecary where she stopped to replenish her ingredients supplies where she saw Draco. She had always known a part of his work was supplying various locations with pre-made stock, which included the apothecaries in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, as well as St Mungo's.

He looked to be in serious conversation with the proprietor, a grim-looking elderly man who wore a deep frown.

Not of a mind to interrupt, Hermione took her time in collecting her items, but eventually she made her way to the register, having run out of aisles to meander.

Draco looked at her with surprise as she approached, and stepped away from the man, drawing her into a brief embrace, though it was evident his mind was elsewhere.

The proprietor watched the exchange as Hermione settled her basket on the counter.

"Mister Matias," Draco mused, "this is a good friend of mine, Hermione Granger."

"Is she now," the man said, offering a calculating nod. "A pleasure to meet you, miss."

"And you," she returned with a smile. "I hope Draco hasn't been giving you too much trouble."

The man's brows shot up, as if in surprise, and he waved a dismissive hand. "Of course not. Always supplies potions of the highest quality."

Hermione eyed Draco with a frisson of pride, and his stare lingered overlong on hers before he looked away and she turned back to the proprietor. "Absolutely he does. He's an incredibly hard worker."

She felt Draco's foot nudge against hers on the floor.

"Aye," the man returned, his gaze flitting between them as he packed her items into a small pouch. "That'll be eighteen sickles."

Distractedly, Hermione scrounged in her bag for the correct coins, swatting Draco's hand away as he reached for his own pocket, and paid for her merchandise with a smile.

After a quick word with the shopkeeper, Draco guided her from the shop with an expectant stare. Once they were out on the main road again, Hermione could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of her head.

She released a sigh. "Yes?"

"And?" He cocked a brow. "How was the interview?"

"It went well," Hermione began, weighing her words. For one, she wasn't certain yet whether she truly wanted to become a curse-breaker. Secondly, she would never hear the end of it if she misspoke. "I have to consider my options."

"Your only other option being a Ministry position you hate," he drawled.

"I don't hate it!"

Draco pursed his lips, his brows flicking dismissively.

"Okay," Hermione said, turning on him in the middle of the road. "Why are you so concerned whether or not I get this new position?"

He was silent for a moment, carrying on down the street without her. Hermione had to rush to keep up with his long stride, scowling. He sighed, adjusting his tie. "I'm tired of seeing you miserable. And it isn't going to get any better. I know what you wanted to achieve when you got on with the Ministry."

As the words hung between them, Hermione could fill in the gaps herself. She would never have the impact she had long desired.

Quietly, she admitted, "Tennyson offered me a position. To train alongside a senior curse-breaker."

Draco looked unsurprised. "And are you going to take it?"

"I told him I would have to consider it."

With a slow nod, he shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"And _you_ ," she went on, eyeing him sidelong. "What was that about in the apothecary?"

He had most likely seen her enter the apothecary anyways—he was the most observant person she knew, and there was no sense in pretending she hadn't seen him in heated conversation with the proprietor.

"Mister Matias has purchased my stock for years now, as you know," Draco mused, slipping his hands into his pockets as they walked. "He's never had a complaint about my potions. Not one."

Hermione couldn't see the issue, so she merely waited, squinting in the brightness of the sun.

" _But_ ," Draco went on, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. "Mister Matias is getting older and he wants to step away from running the apothecary. I've made it very clear I'd be interested in purchasing the shop privately if and when he decides to sell."

"Let me guess," Hermione said, the words apologetic. "He's decided to sell."

"He didn't even _consider_ my offer," Draco groused, scowling. "He doesn't like that I've been trying to set up an apothecary of my own—says Diagon isn't large enough for two. He'll accept my potions but he won't sell his shop to me, even though he knows I'm willing to offer more than the market value."

Hermione sighed, linking her arm with his and leaning closer. "I'm sorry, Draco. It isn't fair. Maybe he'll change his mind."

" _Years_ ," Draco said, the word accompanied with a heavy exhale that spoke to the depth of his anguish and fatigue with the situation. "It shouldn't matter if I'm seeking to set up my own apothecary if he isn't planning on running his shop much longer anyways. But he doesn't want to sell to a former Death Eater."

"I hate that people treat you this way," she said quietly.

For a long moment, they walked in silence. At last, he asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes. I had a sandwich after my interview."

"It would be a good position, you know," he drawled. "I think you'd be great."

"I know," she allowed. Melancholy still sat heavy in his brow, and when he cast her a sad smile, she clasped his hand briefly in hers. "It'll get better."

His fingers gave hers a secure squeeze. "Thanks for listening. Ice cream? My treat."

Offering a smile, she nodded. "Ice cream sounds excellent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading everyone! I'm thrilled so many of you are enjoying reading about these two dinguses pining after each other. Some of you seem to be under the impression that I intend on torturing you through thirteen chapters of this, which isn't quite the case.
> 
> Alpha love and hearts to Kyonomiko.


	6. Chapter 6

Steeling herself with a deep breath for courage, Hermione looked around her Ministry office for the last time. She had packed her few personal items into a box, shrunken and pocketed, and she _nox_ ed the lights before slipping out the door.

Deep down, she knew she would miss working with the Ministry, but ultimately the offer to begin her new position as a curse-breaker with Gringotts was too good to pass up. She had known for months already that the early days of her love affair with the Ministry of Magic were long gone, and it was time for a change.

The unfortunate part was that change always made her uneasy.

She would begin her placement with a senior curse-breaker later that week, having worked through her last weeks at the Ministry after giving her notice. Tennyson had hinted that it might be _him_ that she would be shadowing, and the thought of working with someone so experienced and accomplished was both intimidating and exciting.

Draco was pleased she had accepted the offer, when it was his idea in the first place, but mostly she recognised that he only wanted her to be happy, and she hadn't been happy in her position with the Ministry for a while.

The department had emptied out while she collected her things, and when she emerged from her old office, only a handful co-workers remained. With a few quiet good-byes and no fanfare, Hermione went home.

* * *

Hermione startled awake, nerves already settled in her being the morning of her first day of curse-breaker training.

A strangled yelp escaped her when she realised she wasn't alone.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, scowling as she rubbed at her eyes. "You could have knocked."

Draco leaned against the wall of her bedroom, a smirk on his lips and his stare alight with anticipation. He waved a dismissive hand. "You're fine."

"You can't just _invite yourself_ —" She cut herself off at the humour that still rested on his face, shaking her head. Pulling the covers up around her neck to ensure she was proper, she fixed him with a hard stare.

"If you're done," Draco drawled, settling himself on the other side of her bed. "And you do know I've seen you in your swim clothes, right." He snickered, tugging a chaotic tangle of curls between his fingers. "I'm taking you for breakfast before your first day."

Her mouth fell open and Hermione gaped at him. "You've _grossly_ violated my privacy to take me for breakfast?"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm—"

" _Hermione_."

Falling silent, she scowled at him again, the bridge of her nose scrunched up. He tapped a finger to the tip of her nose, rolling his eyes. "Get up. Shower, get dressed, whatever you need to do. You have twenty minutes."

With that, he strode from the room, leaving Hermione's head whirring with confusion and the lingering remnants of sleep.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hermione found him in her kitchen, browsing that morning's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as if there were nothing wrong with the way he had broken into her flat, lingering over her while she slept.

"You're bloody insane," she muttered, mussing his meticulously coiffed hair with more satisfaction than she expected. "Why are you even awake? It's only just seven."

"I told you," Draco clipped, folding the _Prophet_ as he snatched her wrist with his other hand, holding firm. "Breakfast. You need your energy for today."

It was sweet, if horribly misguided. His fingers coiled tighter around her wrist as he rose, eyeing her closely for a moment.

Hermione couldn't quite account for the way her heart rate escalated when his thumb swiped the pulse point on her wrist, his gaze fixed on hers. Swallowing, she forced a quiet, "Thank you."

The last time they had discussed matters, he hadn't been interested in leaving things between them to play out uninterrupted. But still, he hadn't released her hand, and the skin between his brows pinched with something unreadable as he stared at her.

At last, he mused, "You're going to be amazing."

Something clenched in her chest, a breath hitching in her throat when he finally released her, stepping back. With a stuttering nod, Hermione forced a smile. "Thanks. I owe you for finding me this job."

A sad smile flickered on his face. "You don't owe me a damn thing."

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't dredge forth any excitement about her new position; not with the way he was staring at her as if there was something unspoken between them. Idly, she wondered whether he had _actually_ come to take her out for breakfast.

She dragged a hand up along his arm, grasping his elbow. "Are we going?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing away. He fixed a classic smirk on his lips once more, all the rest of it dropping off in a flash. Hermione wished he hadn't. He had always been so good at concealing things, but she simply knew him too well. He bent his elbow, taking her hand into the crook. "Let's go."

* * *

Draco had been abnormally introspective through breakfast, leaving Hermione to ruminate further still on what was going through his mind. But she knew him well enough to understand that when he was in such a mood there was no point in trying to draw anything from him.

So following a breakfast during which her mood had taken a negative trajectory rather than the positive one he had presumably intended, they split apart and Hermione made her way to Gringotts for her first day.

Luther Tennyson waited for her in the foyer, the goblins going about their business around him as if he didn't exist.

When Hermione approached, nerves dancing in her stomach and threatening to take over, he merely offered an incline of his head and led her towards a narrow, unadorned corridor reaching away from the central chamber.

Tennyson wore a simple shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and trousers, making him appear far more innocuous than his powerful position would suggest.

As they walked, he glanced at her sidelong and commented, "I'm glad you decided to come on here at Gringotts. It is my hope you'll find a curse-breaking position both challenging and rewarding."

Although Hermione still held her own reservations, she nodded. "That is my hope as well."

Leading her into a small office, crammed with overloaded bookshelves and a simple desk, with various styles of artwork on the walls, Tennyson collected a thick tome and handed it to her.

"Here is your basic curse-breaking manual." When her eyes widened at the thickness of the book, he chuckled. "I don't expect you to read it all right away—or ever. Consider it a point of reference. As I said before, you'll largely learn through shadowing and I thought we would dive right in today. You can peruse the manual at your leisure between tasks."

Hermione nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement as she tucked the book into her bag.

"In many cases," Tennyson carried on as he led her from the office and down another long, twisting corridor, "our work takes us to other locations. But quite often cursed objects are brought directly here; whether having been seized by Aurors or the like." He pointed out a sealed door as they walked past. "We process their arrival there, and take them below to be studied."

At the end of the corridor was a system of mine carts, much like those that took people down to the vaults. Tennyson gestured towards the one nearest. "These ones don't require goblin authorisation, but only certified curse-breakers can pass through the end of the corridor. And you, in this case, since you're with me."

He brandished a hand and Hermione slipped into the cart; Tennyson took the seat beside her and adjusted a lever, guiding the cart along the track below ground.

For an instant, Hermione was reminded of the time she had broken into Gringotts with Harry and Ron and escaped on the back of a blind dragon, but it didn't feel like something to bring up on her first day employed with the bank.

Her nerves elevated the deeper they went, but Tennyson veered the cart off the track before they could get too deep, ending at another corridor that looked similar to the one above. This corridor was little more than an entrance, however, leading into a wide, cavernous chamber.

Curse-breakers worked at individual workstations, peering closely at objects, and in the distance she could see a team observing a massive glowing orb that looked uncannily like a meteor.

Her lips tilted into a smile as he led her into the room and towards an empty station. Some of the curse-breakers glanced their way, smiling, and others simply carried on with their work.

Tennyson slipped on a pair of glasses. "Right. We've got—" Pausing, he scanned a notice on the desk beside what looked like some sort of miniature ancient telescope. "Cursed to cause blindness." Lifting his eyes once again to meet hers, he nodded. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

By the end of her first day, Hermione's mind was whirling.

Although she had more or less observed the entire time, Tennyson had restored four separate items, the spells he cast so fluid she had found herself mesmerised. Never in her years at the Ministry had she been so keen to learn.

Tennyson was soft spoken, modest but intelligent, and Hermione had been attentive at his side, torn between excitement over learning enough to pursue her own work, and apprehension given that many of the cursed objects they received were inherently dangerous in nature.

She couldn't wait to get home and go through her reference manual curled up by the fire with a cup of tea.

But as she made her way back into the main chamber of Gringotts, making idle conversation with Tennyson, she stopped in her tracks to see Draco lingering near the entrance, hands tucked in his pockets and fringe falling in his eyes.

His face lit up when he saw her, a slow grin tugging at his lips.

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, grinning. "You are absolutely stalking me today."

"Am not," he snipped, before nodding at Tennyson. "Luther. Good to see you."

Flashing a grin, Tennyson returned, "And you, Mister Malfoy. Great work today, Hermione. See you again tomorrow."

She and Draco both watched as Tennyson veered towards the wickets, him with a raised brow.

"Great work, eh," he murmured, eyes warm as he turned back to face her. "I can't say I'm surprised. Tell me about it over dinner? My treat."

"Breakfast was your treat," she teased, nudging him in the shoulder as they left the bank. "I'm not quite sure what I've done to deserve your presence twice in one day but if we're getting dinner, it's on me."

"Fine," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. "Now that you're a posh curse-breaker and all."

Hermione rolled her eyes, tucking her arm into his, and mused, "It's only been one day but I think I'm going to like it. And don't you _dare_ say I told you so."

* * *

After a month with her new position at Gringotts, Hermione thought she was beginning to get the hang of it. She'd read her reference manual cover to cover three times, a fact that had astounded Luther Tennyson, and she had successfully broken her first curse on her own the day before—an old pearl necklace that had been cursed to asphyxiate the wearer if they were not the legitimate owner.

Most of the time she still shadowed Tennyson, but more and more he'd been letting her take the lead on items. He had even arranged for them to visit a curse-breaking site in Ireland the following week, and it would give her the opportunity to see a more hands-on approach to curse-breaking.

Draco had developed an odd habit of picking her up from work, and while it was strange, he had proven himself to be just that many times over the years. For Hermione, it meant more time spent with him.

And while they hadn't broached the subject of the pact for a while, she hadn't gone out of her way to seek out dates.

To her knowledge, he hadn't either, but perhaps he simply hadn't told her. She supposed it was a bit of a touchy subject.

"We have something important to discuss," Draco drawled, interrupting her train of thought. "Potter's birthday next Saturday."

Snapping a chip in two, she glanced up at him and ate one half. "What about it?"

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, and she sat up straighter. After a long moment of weighing his thoughts, he sighed. "I think we should both attend stag. Unless you've already made arrangements."

It wasn't what she'd been expecting, and she blinked at him several times in silence.

"Only because," he pushed on, "both of _our_ birthdays turned into disasters on that side of things. We'll have more fun if we attend alone together."

"Alone together," she echoed.

He gave a stiff nod.

"That's fine," Hermione said, finishing the other half of her chip. "I didn't have a date anyways."

Truth be told, she hadn't intended to find one at all. And knowing that he wouldn't be bringing anyone either released some of the pressure in her chest at the thought of it.

"Good." Draco flashed her a grin and she suspected he wouldn't be elaborating further. "What day are you going out of town?"

"Thursday. It will depend how it goes, whether we'll be coming back that night or if we get a hotel and stay until Friday."

"Just you and Tennyson, then?" he asked, eyes flicking up casually.

She hummed in affirmation. "But the site is already established. There will be other curse-breakers working there."

Pursing his lips again, he nodded. "I can only imagine Gringotts can afford separate hotel rooms."

Hermione's eyes tightened. "You're acting strangely."

"Am not." She lifted her brows and he scoffed. "I just want to be sure you're comfortable."

"As comfortable as I can be working in an environment where numerous things can kill or maim me," she joked, but his stern expression remained.

Draco stared at her, ducking his chin as he scoffed. "Don't make me regret getting you an interview. If you die I'll carry the guilt for the rest of my life and that isn't acceptable, is it?"

"It isn't," she allowed.

"Good." He set aside his serviette, leaning back in his seat. "I'll expect you to tell me all about it on Saturday."

Idly, Hermione offered a nod, glancing around the restaurant they'd chosen for dinner. It had become a bit of a habit now that he'd been picking her up after work. If she was honest, it had more or less replaced their habit of drinking wine and griping over bad first dates.

At least since she hadn't been actively dating, and she appreciated that he hadn't been making a huge show of the women he'd been seeing either.

Although she'd yet to decide whether the caloric intake from dining out several nights a week was worse than polishing off a bottle between the two of them every second night.

One time she had mentioned the idea of _running_ again and Draco's disdain had been obvious. Tittering, she'd stowed the idea away once more. As a result, she had simply decided to go running on her own.

Her first foray, the week prior, hadn't been altogether successful.

Flashing him a grin, she belatedly offered, "Saturday it is."

* * *

Hermione's first field expedition in the world of curse-breaking was both intimidating and thrilling, and exactly what she had hoped for. The site she and Tennyson had gone to visit was an ancient burial site; numerous curse-breakers had been working on location for weeks already and still hadn't managed to unearth all of the cursed items.

It was a different matter, dealing with ancient curses compared to modern ones, but the mechanics of dismantling them were the same. There were simply more steps, given none of the curses were familiar.

She had managed to break several curses by herself on the first day, and feeling exhilarated, had agreed when Tennyson suggested they stay to continue assisting with the process the following day.

Once they were through, they ventured to the nearby hotel where Tennyson had reserved a pair of rooms. After they checked in, walking along the corridor, he glanced at her and said, "Great work today—and the good news is you haven't been mortally wounded yet."

Uncertain whether he was being facetious or legitimate, she offered a nervous chuckle. "Draco will be relieved. He's quite concerned I'm going to injure myself."

"He needs to have a little more faith in you," Tennyson said with a laugh. After a moment he added, "He's very protective of you. Clearly he cares a lot about you."

Hermione smiled at the thought. "Yes, we've been friends for a long time. I'm quite protective of him myself."

Tennyson's expression faltered for a moment. "I suppose I assumed you were together, given the way he spoke of you when he recommended you for the position." He hesitated for a moment. "And how he picks you up from work every day."

Thrown off by his observations of her personal life, Hermione forced a thick swallow. Since she'd begun working with him, Tennyson had never shown much of an interest beyond her work, and it was surprising to learn he'd been paying so much attention.

Eventually she managed a tight, "No, we're just close friends."

His hazel gaze flickered to land on hers for just an instant. "Interesting."

For some reason, his straightforward assessment of the situation made her anxious and she found herself pressing on. "Draco thinks he isn't deserving of much because of the role he played in the war."

Tennyson hummed for a moment, his gaze tightening. "I am aware of Mister Malfoy's past." Considering the thought for a moment, he added, "I act as a consultant with some of Gringotts' oldest accounts, which is how I came to know him. Many of the old families have always preferred dealing with human contacts for certain matters, and he and I have discussed many things extensively. The war was a long time ago. I believe one cannot be forever judged based on the decisions they made as a youth."

Accepting his words for the offering they were, she smiled. "I believe the same."

With a wry curl of his lips, he stopped short, brandishing her a key. "Your room."

"Of course," she breathed, meeting his stare for a moment. "Thank you."

"Have a nice night, Hermione."

With that, he slid his hands into his pockets and carried on down the corridor.

* * *

Glancing around, Hermione refocused her energy on the large circular object before her in the dirt. Tennyson was speaking with a pair of other curse-breakers a short distance away, leaving her on her own to lift the curse on the object that appeared to be causing a physical sickness in those who came too close for any extended period of time.

She skimmed several pages of her manual, hoping to figure out the correct solution before he returned, but it wasn't something she'd seen yet.

Sucking in a deep breath, Hermione steeled herself and cast the spell she suspected would lift the curse.

In a split instant, she knew something was wrong.

The orb began to vibrate, a hazy sheen drifting across the surface of it as it released a high-pitched keening sound. Hermione's heart jumped in her chest, pounding aggressively as she peered closer at the page. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted her wand to reverse the spell.

The ground beneath her shook with a massive quake, her eyes widening in fear.

Moments later, she looked up in time to see Tennyson loop an arm around her waist, dragging her out of the way as he simultaneously threw a rapid-fire series of spells towards the object.

Hermione watched in horror, her vision blurred by an unwelcome warmth of tears, as after several long, tense moments, the quaking receded into the earth once more, the shimmer dissipating from the orb as it fell quiet.

Belatedly, Tennyson released her and stepped away, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. His chest lifted and fell with rapid breaths, a tight clench to his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Hermione gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. "I thought I had the right spell."

Tennyson pressed his fingers to his temple, eyes falling shut for a moment before he looked her way again with a grimace. "You almost did. I'm just glad you're alright; I shouldn't have stepped away."

Feeling a sting of shame, Hermione nodded. Many curses fought against being disabled, and if the spell was even remotely incorrect, it could lead to disastrous consequences. She'd been trying so hard to prove herself, but she still had a lot to learn.

"I should have checked the spell with you before casting it," she said quietly. "I apologise."

"Don't," Tennyson breathed, his eyes flickering up to hers for a moment. "You're doing great. It can be all too easy to pick out the wrong spell, especially in dealing with such ancient material." He stared at her for another long moment, a knit between his brows. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she whispered, realising her adrenaline was coursing, leaving her with a gentle shake. "It surprised me is all."

"It's disarmed now," he said with another brisk glance back at the orb, which now sat eerily silent. He cast a quick glance down at his watch. "It's nearly time to head back anyways. Let's Portkey back to the Ministry and finish up our reports for the day."

Although she didn't care to leave the trip on a sour note, it had been a productive two days and Hermione had learned a lot more about dismantling ancient curses. Releasing some of the tension in her shoulders, she gave a meek nod.

"Besides," Tennyson added, dropping his voice, "Malfoy will kill me in my sleep if I let anything happen to you."

He flashed her a grin and walked off before Hermione could make any sense of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hi everyone, thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you're all keeping well and safe xoxo
> 
> Alpha hugs to the wonderful Kyonomiko.


	7. Chapter 7

"I saw your boss this afternoon." Draco tossed back the last of his drink even as he signalled the waitress for another. "We had a meeting to discuss how to proceed with the apothecary situation."

Fighting the urge to cringe, Hermione looked up from her own drink. She thought of the cursed orb that she'd failed to dismantle, and how it could have killed her if Tennyson hadn't stepped in. "And how did that go?"

"Fine." He only offered an ambiguous shrug. "He doesn't think it makes sense to increase the offer on the deal with Mister Matias since I'm already offering more than it's worth." As if the matter were irrelevant, he lifted his hands vaguely. "But he understands why all the same."

Evidently, Tennyson had chosen not to reveal the mishap, and she appreciated that he'd left the decision to her.

Hermione hummed, swirling the ice in the bottom of her glass. "If Mister Matias is selling anyways, it shouldn't matter to him who purchases the shop. And Luther understands because he knows why it matters so much to you."

The waitress dropped off another round of drinks, and Draco flashed her a winning smile before taking a sip.

"Decent bloke," he said, as if admitting to something he didn't quite want to share.

"He is," Hermione agreed, leaning back in her seat and offering a smile. She was beginning to feel their earlier rounds of drinks, though they'd been rather subdued. It was nice to spend some time out, just the pair of them, and she found herself secretly glad they hadn't bothered with bringing dates.

Across the pub, Harry and Theo were engaged in some raucous game with several others and she smiled watching them.

Looking up at the feel of Draco's gaze on her, she met his surprisingly intense stare. "What?"

He only shrugged again. "You haven't told me about your trip with Tennyson yet."

"It wasn't a trip _with_ Tennyson," she scoffed, shaking her head. "It was business." When Draco only waved a dismissive hand, she pursed her lips. "And it was good, for the most part. I'm still learning a lot."

Cocking a brow, he took a slow sip of his drink. "Which part _wasn't_ good?"

"You are _incredibly_ interested in this," she mused, fixing him with a stare. Glancing away, she smoothed a wrinkle in her dress. "Why do you act so strangely every time Tennyson is involved?"

"I don't." Rolling out his neck, he murmured, "Odd of you to assume that my interest has anything to do with you and Tennyson."

"Draco!" Hermione narrowed her eyes, shaking her head at him. "He's my boss."

His eyes flickered skyward. "So?"

"So nothing," she snipped.

"Did you sleep with him?"

His feigned disinterest was so calculated as he watched with great focus the game occurring across the pub, that even though his words spiked a flare of irritation, she found herself giggling over her drink.

"Of course I didn't, you great arse." She kicked his shin beneath the table and he fired her a scowl. "Not that it's any of your business."

Even though it could have been, if he'd so much as mentioned the pact in months. But if he wasn't willing to discuss the possible eventuality of the pair of them being stuck together, he wasn't allowed to ask those sorts of questions.

She could read the incoming debate on his face as his fingers curled tighter around his glass. He knew the situation as well as she did, and she knew him to be smarter than that.

At last he clicked his tongue and bit out, "Fine." Setting his drink down a little harshly, he swept his hair aside. "I need to use the loo."

Hermione watched as he strode from their table, mind churning at his oddly directed attention, and as if they'd been waiting for an opening, Harry and Theo appeared on either side of her.

She met Harry's glassy green eyes with speculative brows. "Having fun?"

"Yes," he said with a grin. "And _you_ —" He drunkenly jabbed at her shoulder, snickering.

"What he means to say," Theo slurred from her other side, his hair sticking up at odd angles, "is that it's about _bloody_ time you two finally came to one of these dos together."

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed with surprise, "Draco and I aren't here together. We're just both here, separately."

Harry and Theo stared at one another across her, their expressions that of matching confusion. "But you both didn't bring a date," Theo said.

"Right."

The bridge of Harry's nose knit into a wrinkle. "And you've literally been at this table together since you arrived at the same time."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Shortly thereafter, anyways."

"Obtuse," Theo said with a groan, dropping his head back against the scratched upholstery of the booth. "Daft."

"Daft," Harry echoed, as Draco slipped back into his seat.

"Excuse you," Draco snipped, "who are you calling daft?"

"Both of you," Theo huffed, throwing his hands into the air. "You're both bloody daft."

Frowning, Draco met her stare across the table, nudging her foot with his own. She fought the urge to smile at their antics, offering Draco a private sort of shrug.

"If anyone's daft here," Draco drawled, taking a swig of his drink, "it's Potter, and you don't see me going around insulting him, now do you?" Before anyone could respond, he slammed back the last of his drink. "Come on—let's go dance."

It wasn't often that Draco wanted to dance, and usually the urge only struck when he was in a strange mood, but Hermione felt a thrill chase her spine at the thought. Not to mention she didn't know what Theo and Harry were going on about.

"Dancing," she repeated with a nod, taking a long swig of her drink and leaving the dregs as she awkwardly maneuvered herself over top of Harry in an effort to extricate herself from the booth. "Let's go."

When Draco tugged her hand into his, dragging her along, she glanced back to see the identical, unimpressed stares of Harry and Theo lingering on her.

Before Hermione could even get her bearings on the dance floor, Draco pulled her into his arms, resting his face against the side of her temple. Her heart jolted at the intimate contact and she laced her arms around his neck, allowing her eyelids to flutter at the feel of his hands on the bare skin of her back above the cut of her dress.

The music was rather relaxed and ambient, and she found herself sort of moving along to the pulsing downbeat, neither of them particularly focused.

Maybe the drinks were having more of an effect than she'd realised.

"I like your dress," Draco said against her skin, the rumble of his voice seeping into her skin; she felt a flush creep along her throat and into her face at his words. "It's new."

"Not _new_ ," she corrected, uncertain why her heart was beating so strangely in her chest. "You just probably haven't seen it yet."

He drew back, holding her at arm's length, and she felt the heat of his stare sear her skin as he swept his gaze along the length of her. Then he pulled her back into him, carrying on their dance.

Hermione bit down hard on her bottom lip. Everything would be so much easier if they both wanted the same thing, but she couldn't very well tell him that what she wanted was for her dress to wind up on his bedroom floor.

At last he hummed, "It's pretty on you." After another pause he added, "Everything looks pretty on you. Because you're so damn pretty."

Ignoring the wild pulsing of her heart, Hermione snickered. "You're drunk."

His hands only tightened on her back. "Naw. Maybe a little."

It was an exercise in restraint to avoid catching his stare, because she wasn't sure what she would find in the grey depths of his irises, and wasn't sure she was strong enough to look away. So she merely rested her face against his chest, toying with the loose hair at the nape of his neck.

If ever she had the ability to freeze time—it would be this moment.

The thought stirred something deep within her, hope mixed with longing, and a sudden bout of melancholy swept through her, drawing moisture to her eyes.

"Are you crying?" he asked gruffly, his hold on her shifting.

"No," she sniffled.

He only drew her closer, releasing a heavy breath. After several moments, wherein Hermione found herself simply sinking into his embrace, he asked, "Do you think we should get pizza after this?"

Drawing back with a quiet huff of laughter, she nodded. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

With a hint of a smirk, he muttered, "You aren't even going to give me a hard time about it?"

"No," she mused, tucking herself back into his arms. "Because now I'm craving pizza."

He chuckled lowly, the rumble of it shooting through her, and drew away at last. Tilting his head towards the exit, he murmured, "Let's go."

* * *

Draco's posh flat featured a large patio that wrapped around two sides of the suite and overlooked magical London. Large upholstered benches and an eclectic assortment of tables and lamps filled the space while ubiquitous birdsong provided a warm chorus, especially late at night.

It was Hermione's favourite place.

Several years back, Draco had been looking to sell the flat but she had managed to persuade him otherwise—ultimately, he loved the space as much as she did.

And on a warm summer evening, satiated on too much pizza in the middle of the night, it was ideal.

Draco lounged on the bench beside her, elbows bent and fingers interlaced behind his head as he gazed out at the dull haze of light filtering up from the city below.

One of the things she enjoyed the most about their friendship was that they didn't always need to talk. Draco was often introspective and Hermione sometimes found herself the same, picking carefully through her mind and dissecting the thoughts she found.

Most notably, more and more of her thoughts had centred around the blond beside her, ever since she'd admitted to a somewhat disconcerting conclusion at his birthday.

Sometimes she wished they would discuss the drunken pact they'd made years ago, but sometimes she was content to carry on as they were, despite the fact that she knew they were only prolonging a conversation they would need to have eventually.

With only ten months until Draco's birthday, Hermione didn't think she would find someone she wanted to marry.

And if she was completely honest with herself, the very act of trying would be self-sabotage in itself, when the one she _truly_ wanted was the one she would have by default.

But still, she didn't want to subject Draco to ending up stuck with her.

She knew the depth and value of their friendship, but couldn't help but wonder whether his reticence to discuss the situation was indicative of a simple lack of interest. Maybe he appreciated her friendship but didn't want it to go any further than that, and didn't care to hurt her feelings.

Surely, he must realise she was interested in him.

He hadn't seen her date in months, and truthfully, they'd been spending so much time just the pair of them she would have been hard pressed to find time anyways.

Draco would come out ahead of anyone else she sought to meet, time and again.

She was convinced of it. The thought sprung bittersweet in her heart with a painful clench. _He_ was the one she wanted to marry, if she had to choose.

"Come here," Draco murmured, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at her, extending an arm to his side.

The soft padded bench was wide enough for the both of them but only just, and Hermione eyed him for a moment before offering a soft smile and tucking herself into the space between him and the wall. His arm curled around her, bringing her into his chest.

"You're going to explode that hefty brain if you keep thinking so hard," he said with a hint of a snicker. His words were slurred from the drinks earlier at the pub coupled with a couple rounds after they'd gorged themselves on pizza from their favourite parlour. But he cracked one eye open to peer at her. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she breathed, cuddling into his side.

Draco scoffed. "I know you better than that." When she didn't respond, he added quietly, "But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'll guess."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

Maybe she simply needed to tell him the way she felt—that she didn't want to find someone else to marry because the one she wanted was him.

She had never been lacking in courage, but for some reason this felt different. Draco was her best friend and the most important person in her life, and if she were to ruin that she could never forgive herself.

But they both knew the reality of the situation. He knew as well as she did that the clock was ticking, and if _he_ still wanted to find someone other than her, his time to do so was running out.

She blinked at him for a moment, feeling her heart beginning to race in her chest. His grey eyes were earnest, even as they fluttered and he stifled a wide yawn.

How could Hermione allow him to slip from her grasp without trying?

If there was even a chance that he _would_ be happy with her after all, and she pushed him to find someone else, could she ever forgive herself the missed opportunity?

She couldn't.

She needed to tell him the way she felt.

Something about the feel of his arms around her bolstered her nerves—Hermione wanted him to be at her side for the rest of her life, and that would never be the case if one or both of them found someone else. She couldn't even fathom the thought of someone else anymore.

Blowing out a long breath, she turned to face him again, opening her mouth to speak. His eyes had fallen shut, his face peaceful.

"Draco," she whispered, adrenaline mobilising in her veins.

He only shifted, drawing her closer, before his grip around her loosened. A quiet snore slipped from his mouth and she tittered despite the disappointment roaring through her, pulsing behind her ears as her eyes stung.

Allowing a few tears to break loose, Hermione thinned her lips, releasing a breath through her nose.

Then swiping hastily at the moisture, she adjusted her hold on him and allowed her own eyes to slip shut, welcoming the quiet freedom of sleep.

* * *

It was remarkable, sometimes, to watch the passage of time. Sometimes, the seconds, minutes, and hours of the day would crawl past as if they might never go.

And other times, weeks simply flew by, caught up in routine.

Hermione found herself baffled at the speed with which the summer had swept past, settling into place with her new job and the trivialities of life in between.

Whether through anticipation or dread, she couldn't tell, other than the fact that she had no idea where August went.

After Harry's birthday, she'd never quite had a chance to scrounge up the courage to speak with Draco, but he'd been acting distant and standoffish recently, and it had never felt like the right time.

Hermione had found running in the mornings to be a good way to control her emotions, leaving her equipped for the day, and on occasion she would step out from Gringotts at lunch as well.

She enjoyed curse-breaking far more than she had her job at the Ministry, but sometimes dealing with the objects brought before her could become wearisome. Tennyson was one of the most knowledgeable in the department, and even without, from what she had heard from some of the others who worked more regularly in the field.

Hermione was grateful to have his guidance, especially when the curses were cumbersome and challenging.

Increasingly distracting was the thought that she would soon be turning thirty, and the idea of it had begun to feel like a murky, surreal dream.

Draco, Harry, and Theo insisted she throw a party but she wasn't keen on the idea, especially with the stark reminder of what thirty meant implicitly in her life.

"You look stressed out," Tennyson said, approaching her work space with an easy grin, and a sparkle in his hazel eyes she had come to recognise as ubiquitous.

"A little," Hermione admitted, rolling out a kink in her neck as she rose from her desk and removed her protective glasses and gloves. Stretching out her arms above her head, she said, "I'm going to go for a run at lunch and tackle this with fresh eyes."

Peering at the object she was working on—a rusted brass monocle, its glass hazy and scratched—he nodded, skimming her notes on the curse with which it was imbued. "You've almost got it."

Tennyson was like that—the more advanced her training had become, the less willing he was to tell her anything outright. He was more prone to simply tell her if she was on the right track, and she knew it was because their minds operated in a remarkably similar manner.

He knew she would experience the triumph when she figured it out herself more than if he told her.

She appreciated it even as it sometimes drove her insane.

With a casual flicker of his brow, he nodded as she drew a bag from beneath her desk with a change of clothes. "Would you care for some company?"

Hermione eyed him for a moment, his crisp button down and pressed trousers. "You run?"

"On occasion." His lips twitched.

"Fine." She flashed him a quick grin as she shouldered her pack. "Meet me outside in ten minutes."

* * *

As it turned out, Tennyson was a far more proficient runner than she was. It was strange to see her boss in running shorts and trainers, although even when she grew winded and needed to slow down, he looked mostly unaffected but graciously obliged.

Hermione had to remind herself she was still learning, and she'd come a long way already since the time she and Draco had failed miserably in their attempt to jog in the park near his flat.

Halfway across Diagon Alley, Hermione came to a pause, breaths chasing from her in anxious huffs, and she grimaced as she offered Tennyson a glance.

"Go on without me," she breathed, "I need to visit the apothecary."

Tennyson clicked his tongue and offered a brisk, "Good work, Granger," before carrying on towards the far end of Diagon Alley. Wrinkling her nose in consternation, she watched for a moment with narrowed eyes before leaning back against the nearest building until she was able to catch her breath, fumbling in her bag for a bottle of water.

Then she ventured into the apothecary to pick up a few things.

It was the same shop Draco had been intent on acquiring, and she couldn't help but notice the large _FOR SALE_ sign that was still affixed to the interior of the window. Neither Draco nor Tennyson had updated her on the situation recently, and she hadn't seen fit to ask when she knew how much it meant to Draco.

Feeling out of sorts in her running clothes, Hermione was quick to select the few things she needed before making her way to the register. Despite the man's blatant prejudice towards her friend, she offered Mister Matias a thin smile.

"Miss Granger, is it?"

"Yes, hello," she said with a nod. "I hope you're keeping well."

"Very well, thank you." The man offered a gracious nod in return as he rang her items through, and she dug for a small pouch of coins at the bottom of her satchel.

After he'd wrapped her ingredients into a small parcel so she could safely stow them in her bag, he fixed her with a stare. "Thank you for your patronage."

With another smile, she turned towards the door when his voice froze her to the spot once more.

"Miss Granger, I'm curious whether you might answer a few questions I have about Draco Malfoy." Mister Matias looked somewhat abashed when she turned back around, casting a quick glance towards her watch.

She didn't have to be back at Gringotts for another twenty minutes.

Even years after the war, she often still found that people recognised her name, and there was a general tendency in the wizarding world to relate her to Harry and the downfall of Voldemort. Even among the older generation.

Draco hated the idea of her speaking on his behalf, but she found her mouth dry as she breathed, "Have you got a while?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone. Here's the deal: I'm going to be increasing the update frequency of this story for a couple reasons. Firstly, you all want to see these two get together, and although it's closer than a lot of you think, I do too and I just want everyone to be happy. But secondly I'm struggling to keep up with two active WIPs with two separate posting schedules, and I'd like to focus on Nocturnus. Since it's entirely written and I'm doing my own edits on this story, updates will be every 3-4 days now.
> 
> Thanks to Kyonomiko for all her help with this silly fic.


	8. Chapter 8

Thirty.

Sometimes, when Hermione had been a teenager on the run, trapped in a ragged tent with her two youthful best friends, fearing for her life, she wondered whether she would ever have a chance to grow old.

For whatever reason, she had fixated on the number thirty. That young, terrified version of herself had thought that if she could ever make it to thirty, she would most assuredly have it all together by then.

By thirty she would have a stable career, likely be married, and maybe thinking about starting a family.

It had helped her to sleep when the wind howled beyond the thin canvas walls of the tent, when the fear of Snatchers patrolling just beyond the edges of her wards became too much to handle. The despair that they might not find the Horcruxes in time and that Harry might not win out in the end.

She'd turned it into a bit of a game, feeble attempts to determine what her life would look like when she was grown.

Hermione certainly didn't feel grown, and she definitely didn't have it all together.

Only a handful of months prior she had uprooted her life at the Ministry and begun her new adventure at Gringotts; she was decidedly unmarried, in the most convoluted way possible; and how could she possibly consider starting a family when she didn't even feel as if her feet were beneath her most days?

To steady the racing in her heart, Hermione sought Harry's emerald gaze across the pub, finding him engaged in some sort of heated debate with Theo and Draco. Nearby, a table of her co-workers discussed the merits of a new form of spell detection, and many of her former classmates mingled in the room.

She hadn't even wanted a party, but she knew that wouldn't be her decision to make. She wondered whether her friends even realised how much she'd come to dread turning thirty.

In knowing that her friends only meant the best, she finally forced some of the tension free of her shoulders, venturing forward to visit with her friends and co-workers.

When Draco sidled up alongside her, dragging her roughly into his arms, she melted into his embrace as he murmured into her ear, "Happy birthday, Granger."

"Thank you," she whispered, letting out a long breath when he released her.

" _Not_ to steal your thunder in the slightest," he went on, casting her a sidelong glance as he took a sip of whiskey, "but I have some news."

Turning to face him with an expectant lift to her brows, Hermione waited.

His lips twitched for a moment as he drew another pull from his tumbler. "I may have made a significant purchase yesterday." When his words clicked into place, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips, he hastily added, "I was going to tell you sooner but I wanted to be sure everything was going to work out."

For a long moment, she only stared at him, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "You _are_ referring to the apothecary?"

Draco rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Yes, the apothecary."

"Draco!" she exclaimed, delight flooding her all at once, and without thinking she threw her arms around him again. When his arms coiled around her with a low chuckle, she breathed, "I'm so proud of you."

Drawing back, he held her by the arms, ducking his chin. "I know you spoke to Mister Matias." Nerves crept through her as she offered an uneasy grimace. "It's okay—he told me you only solidified his decision."

"I'm so excited for you," she breathed, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. "After so long."

His face softened into something more genuine. "I know. And you've always believed in me, even when I didn't."

"I always will," she whispered in return.

When Draco released her, stepping back, his eyes tightened on her as if he had something more to say. But in that moment Tennyson walked up alongside them, clapping Draco on the back with a grin.

"Congratulations, Malfoy," he announced, extending a hand. Returning the grin, Draco gave it an emphatic shake. "I knew you'd get through to him eventually."

"Too bad it wasn't when the offer was lower," Draco quipped with a snicker. "Thanks for all your help, Luther."

"Absolutely." With a nod, Tennyson slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. "And happy birthday, Hermione."

In a loud aside, Draco asked, "Can you believe she's thirty?"

"Hardly," Tennyson returned with a snort. Hermione scowled at them both, carefully banking anything Draco said about her age to remember for _his_ thirtieth. Then Tennyson chuckled. "It's only a number, after all. You should see how much her mile pace has improved."

Hermione felt a sting of colour grace her cheeks at the compliment, even as she could feel the heat of Draco's stare on the side of her face. With a bit of a shrug, she said, "It's a slow process."

"You're doing great," Tennyson affirmed, before nodding to them both. "I'll leave you to it. Enjoy your party, Hermione."

Draco took a long pull from his whiskey, an awkward silence engulfing them as Tennyson walked away. At last he drawled, "You've been going running with Tennyson?"

" _You_ don't care for it," she quipped in an effort to diffuse the tension. "I've been running at lunch and he's come along a few times."

"Interesting," Draco returned, dragging the word out. "Sounds like you two are really getting on."

Scowling, Hermione wheeled to face him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything," he drawled, lifting a brow. "I'm happy for you."

"He's my boss," she deadpanned, feeling a prickle of irritation creep along her spine. "Will you please stop inferring there's something going on between us?"

Draco didn't answer but to slam back the last of his drink. Brandishing the empty glass, he said, "I'm going to get another. Shall I buy you a birthday drink?"

"Fine," she bit out with a sigh, unable to hold onto her annoyance with him. If she didn't know better, she might have thought his intense interest in her working relationship with her boss, or whatever friendship that might have grown between them, was indicative of jealousy.

But he had the means to do something about it, if that were the case.

Along the far wall of the pub, Theo and Harry were engaged in a competitive-looking match of darts, and Hermione caught Draco's eye. "Think we should teach them a thing or two?"

Draco snorted indelicately. "Of course we should."

* * *

As the night wore on, Hermione found herself drifting between tables and groups of people, nursing the same few drinks. Her melancholy from earlier had largely dissipated but still clung to the back of her mind and she couldn't quite slip into the party spirit.

One of the bright spots about her new job was that she had come to connect with some of her co-workers at Gringotts, and she took a seat at their table, offering a smile and jumping into the conversation.

Hermione noticed Tennyson watching her for a moment and brandished her drink in a salute from across the table; cracking a smile, he returned the gesture.

She tried not to dwell on the subtle accusation in Draco's words—the man was simply her boss, and if they happened to get along well enough to spend time together outside of work, that was her business. It wasn't as if she were actively pursuing anything with him. And furthermore, Draco had no interest in running with her so it wasn't his place to criticise who she _did_ exercise with.

But still, his words stung.

The last she had seen, he'd been deep in conversation with Theo and Harry about Quidditch, and she'd left them to it with a smile. It was still strange, sometimes, even so many years after the war and since Draco and Theo had integrated into their lives, to see Harry get along so well with former Slytherins.

They'd all simply grown up.

As the night wound down, Hermione found herself stifling a yawn, her eyes strained with fatigue and helped along with the handful of drinks she'd consumed.

Most of her co-workers were through more than a handful, and were loudly fixated on a conversation surrounding complex Muggle physics.

When she offered Tennyson, silent but bemused, a grimace, he flashed a grin and said, "I'd better call it a night."

"I'll walk you out," she hurried, jumping from her seat. As they walked towards the door, she said, "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Tennyson said easily, "I hope you had a nice birthday."

With a gracious nod, she murmured, "I certainly did."

He curled his fingers around her shoulder in a brief squeeze. "Good night, Hermione."

"Hermione—" She spun, startled, to see Draco approach, his mouth falling shut. Face carefully blank, his eyes swept her and Tennyson, and he said, "I just wanted to let you know I was leaving. Happy birthday."

Belatedly, Tennyson's hand dropped from her shoulder.

Hermione could only stare at Draco, a furrow in her brow before she managed a thick swallow, nausea curling in her stomach. "Good night, Draco."

With a nod and a forced smile, he turned to walk away.

Tennyson slipped his hands into his pockets, shifting on the spot. Quietly he mused, "I did tell you he cares a lot about you."

She could think of nothing to say, a bitter rending in her chest as she stared at the spot where Draco had stood moments before.

"If you heard the way he speaks of you when you aren't around. And by the way," Tennyson went on wryly, "if you're waiting on _him_ to make a move, I think you'll be waiting a while."

Whirling back around to face him, she frowned, a harsh sting threatening at the backs of her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Tennyson huffed with a bit of a snicker, "you're both blind when it comes to one another. Whatever sign you're looking for, there it is."

Heart slamming aggressively in her chest, Hermione offered a stilted nod, his words seeping into her brain as she gasped, "I need to go—good night."

She just caught the curl to Tennyson's mouth when she turned for the Floo, a tremble rising to her hands. Before she could dwell any further or persuade herself otherwise, she grabbed a handful of powder, threw it into the grate, and stepped through the green flames.

Attempting to steel her nerves was a poor effort when she found herself in Draco's sitting room, shaky and cold. He merely lifted a brow when she dropped into the sofa beside him, her gaze flickering sidelong to his.

Draco simply sighed, sinking into his seat. "What are you doing here?"

It was a valid question, and one Hermione didn't entirely know how to answer. "You left," she breathed at last, "and I wasn't done spending time with you."

Propping an elbow on the armrest, he buried his face in his palm. "It's late."

Recognising the vague dismissal, Hermione felt something flare in her blood. Adrenaline built in her veins, coursing through her as she scowled at him. " _You_ are treating me like I've done something wrong."

"You haven't done anything wrong," he said at last, his voice quiet. "I just hope you're being honest with me. It's okay if there's something going on with Tennyson—like I said, he's a good bloke."

"There isn't!" she exclaimed, voice rising higher than she intended. Tension fell over the pair of them, her breathing a little heavy, before she pursed her lips to consider her next words with more care. "Luther is my boss, as I've told you, and I have no interest in him."

Draco didn't answer, wrenching a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"I don't know what you _think_ you're seeing," she breathed, "but there isn't anything there." The crux of the matter remained, throbbing in her chest, and she whispered, "I don't know why you care anyways— _you_ told me I should meet someone."

Silence hung for so long it made her nervous. At last he choked out, "Isn't it bleeding obvious?"

Mouth dry, Hermione slammed her lips shut as she stared hard at the end table. As evenly as she could manage, she said, "I don't want to meet anyone."

"If you don't meet anyone," Draco murmured, burying his face in his hand again, "you'll wind up stuck with me."

Hermione drew in a long breath through her nose and blew it out in a huff. "Have you ever stopped to consider—" cutting off, she clenched her hands together, before pressing on "—maybe that's what I want."

His eyes snapped to hers, doleful and strained, his lips parting.

But Hermione barrelled on, the words chasing from her lips of their own accord; she tore her gaze from his even as tears stung at her eyes. "Maybe all I want is to be stuck with you—maybe I would be happy marrying my best friend, and the only person who understands and accepts me for exactly who I am." Dragging a hand through her hair, she shook her head. "Merlin, Draco, _you_ are the one who thinks—I don't know, that you're beneath me in some way—when I could only be so _lucky_ —"

She broke off as a sob chased from her lips and she clapped a hand to her mouth, tears springing from her eyes.

Forcing the rest, she whispered, "I could never find someone I love more than I love you."

While she spoke, she kept her gaze fixed carefully elsewhere, but when she finally chanced a look in his direction, she found him eyeing her with caution, as if he didn't quite know what to do with her.

"You—" he shook his head "— _what_?"

Swiping at her eyes, and ignoring the flush of colour rising into her cheeks, she whispered, "I love you."

It was at once a cosmic relief and miserably unnerving to have laid herself bare, and all Hermione could hear was the roaring of her own pulse behind her ears.

Draco gaped at her, his jaw hanging open; then his expression shifted, a furrow rising in his brow as he shook his head at her. He stretched an arm around her on the sofa, drawing her into his arms, and Hermione allowed herself to sink into his hold, feeling a strange mixture between hyper-awareness and complete numbness.

Burying his face into her hair, he ground out, "You're bloody _serious_."

It wasn't what she'd been expecting, or perhaps hoping he might say, but she managed a stuttering nod and a quiet, "Yes."

Draco drew back, planting a lingering kiss to her temple. The pad of his thumb swept a rogue tear that had broken from her eye, his lips brushing away the moisture.

Hermione couldn't breathe, heart tight in her chest and every fibre of her being alive with awareness of his touch as he took her face between his palms.

Then he muttered, "You're crazy," before his lips descended on hers.

In the instant Draco kissed her, Hermione felt as if she might simply explode, warmth coursing through her as she returned the kiss with tentative pressure that quickly escalated.

His tongue teased her lips, sweeping into her mouth and grazing her own as his fingers slid back into her curls, her hands carding through his fine hair.

She knew him so well but never had she known his kisses, the intention of his hands, and she melted into his touch, heat flaring in her core as she shifted to straddle his lap, one of his hands dragging down her back towards her arse.

Draco was passionate but reverent, his fingertips skating along the ladder of her ribs as he drew her shirt over her head, breaking from her lips only to throw the fabric to the floor. A soft groan escaped her as he trailed a line of kisses along her jaw, palming her breast through her bra as she ground against him, desperately seeking friction between them.

When he paused, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.

His grey eyes snapped to meet hers, his lips pressing together as his throat bobbed with a swallow; mesmerised, Hermione watched the motion.

"I can't—not like this," he said, shaking his head. He trailed the lines of her cheeks, her jaw, with his fingers, as if searing the details of her into his memory. "If we're doing this, I want to do it right. Not half drunk, with you crying."

His lips brushed hers again, covetous and lacking in the urgency of moments prior.

Hermione only stared at him, toying with the long hairs at the nape of his neck. She felt emotionally raw, rendered down to nothing more than the way he looked at her.

"Merlin you're beautiful," he whispered, the hints of silver in his eyes searing through her. "I love you, Hermione."

Her heart soared at the words, still seated atop his lap, and she breathed, "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because," he mused, a devastatingly sad smile crossing his face, "I didn't want to deprive you of the ability to choose someone for yourself over some drunken mistake we made years ago."

"It wasn't a mistake," she breathed, pressing her lips hard against his. For a moment he deepened the kiss again, his palm rounding the curve of her hip. Drawing back, she pressed her forehead against his and finished, "I choose you."

"I'm going to take you on a date. This week," he announced, his expression falling serious. With a snicker he added, "As much as you're tempting me right now."

Hermione was still reeling over the fact that he felt the same, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to quell a grin, nodding. "I'd like that." Staring at him for a moment longer, and basking in the feel of his arms around her, she asked, "How long?"

"When you left for Paris," he murmured, "I realised how much I was going to miss you."

Gaping at him, she returned, "That was a year ago. And you were dating Beth."

"Only until Beth told me how obvious it was that I was in love with someone else," he said, nuzzling her nose before stealing another quick kiss.

"It hurt to see you with her," Hermione admitted, " but I don't think I quite realised why until Portugal."

He cracked a grin, shaking his head as he dropped his head back against the top of the sofa. At last Hermione disentangled herself from his lap, tucking into his side.

"I thought you'd just stopped telling me about your dates because you knew how I felt," he said, gazing at the ceiling. Humming, he added, "I don't think I _really_ saw anything between you and Tennyson, I just…" Trailing off, he shrugged.

"He saw through both of us," Hermione mused against his chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. With her adrenaline levelled off, she stifled a wide yawn, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of how the night had ultimately gone.

Draco shifted his hold on her, absently playing with her curls, the feel of it gently lulling her towards sleep. He asked, "Do you want to stay over?"

"Yes," she said with a soft hum. "If it's alright."

It definitely wouldn't be the first time she'd stayed over at his flat, but usually she borrowed the spare room.

Pressing his lips to her temple, Draco said, "I'll make up the extra bed for you." The words came out sounding more like a question than he'd perhaps intended, and she cracked her eyes open to meet his.

"If you want to."

He eyed her for a moment, lips twitching, and said, "Unless you'd rather stay with me."

It was strange to consider there were so many things between them still uncharted, when they'd been so close for so long. But she'd never slept in his bed and he'd cut things off from going further tonight.

Sitting up again with another wide yawn, her words came out a little slurred when she said, "I'll keep my hands to myself; promise."

Draco barked a laugh, standing and tugging her to her feet alongside him. "I definitely don't want you to make any promises like that." He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips before vanishing for a moment, returning with a pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts, shrunken to fit her.

Taking the cue, Hermione offered him a sleepy smile before darting into the loo to change. Blowing out a long breath, she folded her evening clothes into a careful pile, gazing for a moment at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a wild mess from the night and Draco's wandering hands, her face flushed and a bright sparkle in her stare.

As soon as she emerged from the loo, he scooped her up into his arms; she released a surprised cry before a laugh chased free and she curled her hands around his neck as he carried her into his bedroom before tucking her carefully beneath the covers.

She gazed at the ceiling with an absent grin, until several moments later he crawled in beside her, a secretive smile on his face.

"Good night, Hermione," he said, brushing a last kiss against her lips. She drew him nearer, deepening the kiss and pressing herself against him until he drew back with a groan, snagging her bottom lip between his teeth. "Happy birthday."

"Good night," she whispered, eyes falling shut once more as he shifted her in his hold, and a soft smile drifted across her face. Maybe thirty wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: HI I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It is a story about marriage after all :P Thanks for reading!
> 
> Alpha glomps to Kyonomiko; mistakes are my own.


	9. Chapter 9

Stirring awake, Hermione's eyes snapped open at the realisation that she wasn't in her own bed. Nor was she alone. Strong arms wound around her midsection from behind and a sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

As the memories from the night before seeped back in, Hermione recognised something settled in her being; a sort of peace she hadn't felt in a long time.

Rolling her head on the soft pillow, she caught a flash of platinum blond and Draco's eyes slid open to find hers.

"Almost thought I'd been dreaming about last night," he mused, voice thick with sleep; he yawned, burying his face back into his pillow as his hold on her tightened.

Hermione trailed her fingers along the back of his hand where it splayed across her stomach. "Not unless we're still dreaming now."

An absent smirk slipped across his mouth, his stare finding hers again. "Quite certain I'm awake." Shifting closer, he brushed her lips with his and murmured, "Definitely awake."

After so many months of believing Draco wasn't interested in her in that way, it _was_ surreal to think of how everything had changed the night before. It was a Sunday and she had no intentions of letting the moment slip by as she settled back into his hold.

A quiet groan escaped his lips as her arse brushed against him, and she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth at the feel of his morning erection grazing her bottom. He dragged a hand up to palm her breast, his thumb swiping her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, and a soft huff fell from her lips.

Her mouth felt dry and she managed a swallow, lips parting as he brushed a kiss along the curve of her jaw.

"What are you doing today?" he asked, voice muffled by her skin.

"No plans," she breathed, the words hitching a little in her throat. "You?"

He tweaked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and Hermione bit down hard on her bottom lip. "Maybe we could spend some time together, if you like."

Hermione nodded, preening at the feel of his gentle touches. "That sounds nice."

Never mind that they already spent time together multiple times a week—everything felt different now, in light of the revelations they'd shared the night before.

Her breathing picked up, her brain still a little fuzzy from sleep as his hand grazed the bare skin at her midriff where her shirt had ridden up before trailing the ladder of her ribs.

For so long she'd craved his touch, and there were so few barriers that still existed between them. She pressed her arse back against him with intention, testing the waters, and his hand paused against her stomach, just below her sternum.

Draco's lips met the column of her throat. "Do you think we should wait?"

It was a loaded question and they both knew it.

Hermione had trusted him wholeheartedly for years, and she knew the sentiment ran both ways. But this was brand new, and she didn't want to be the one to discourage him if he wanted to cling to good intentions.

At last she settled on, "You said you wanted to wait. Last night."

"Let's be clear," he murmured lowly by her ear, "I don't _want_ to. But I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position."

Arousal pulsed in her core, both from his touch and now from his words. She knew the way she felt for him, and had admitted as such the night before, but she'd had several drinks in her system at the time and didn't feel as brazen in the light of day.

Hermione could admit to herself that she wanted him, and any efforts they would make simply felt like delaying the inevitable.

Misinterpreting her silence, he shifted, his face landing on the pillow. "There isn't any rush. I don't mean to push, I only thought you—"

"I'm encouraging it," she breathed, a smile curling her lips. "I know." Wetting her lips, she went on carefully. "There _isn't_ a rush, but…"

Letting the words hang between them, she waited until he breathed, "Right."

His hand inched higher, landing on her bare breast beneath her shirt, and a stifled groan slipped through her lips. "Tell you what," he murmured, kneading her flesh as she ground absently back against him. "I'll take you for a nice meal tonight—a proper _date_ —and we can just…"

"See where the evening goes," she prompted, heavy breaths slipping from her lips as she squirmed, his absent ministrations pulsing through to her core as he teased her nipples. Desperately she longed for him to touch her between her legs.

For at least a year—maybe longer, if she was fully honest—she'd been interested in him in some capacity. And it went way beyond the realm of anything he could make her feel physically. Surely she could wait one more day.

Draco released a breath before withdrawing his hand, shifting to lie on his back. When Hermione rolled to face him, his lips pulled into a smirk before she leaned in, planting a kiss on his mouth.

His eyes were warm as they slid open to meet hers, his fingers reverent as they traced the lines of her face.

A soft, teasing smile crossed his face as he said, "I hope you enjoyed your birthday."

"I did," Hermione whispered, stealing another brief kiss before drawing back. "It's in the running for the best ever."

His widening smile jolted her heart alive.

* * *

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd been so nervous for a date. Although if she were honest, she hadn't been on a date in a long while, so that might have had something to do with it.

But the dominant fear hiding out in the back of her mind was that Draco would change his mind; she was afraid his interest in her was only a passing fancy, or maybe he'd convinced himself it was for the best. The path of least resistance and all that.

And there was a small voice in the back of her mind that worried they were better off as friends and wouldn't be sexually compatible. That thought had mostly been quelled by their interactions of the past twenty-four hours, however. In fact, their kisses of the night before and teasing touches that morning had done more to her than she had even anticipated in her wildest imaginings late at night.

Hermione knew how she felt about him, and if she could take his words at face value it was, somehow, mutual. Idly, she wondered how much time they could have gained together had they not continued to dance around one another for so long.

But she was a firm believer in the idea that things happened as they were meant to. A year ago, neither of them had been ready to accept the reality of the vow pushing them together. Now, Hermione found she couldn't wait to dive in.

Eyeing the cut of her dress in the mirror as she finished getting ready, she admitted to herself that interest was both emotional and sexual in nature.

She knew she could trust Draco and she knew how much she cared about him.

The only variable was his level of interest, and that was beyond her control. But if there was one thing she knew about the blond, it was that he wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do.

And if their date naturally segued towards sex, so be it.

Hermione felt it in her heart that it was about more than that, but she couldn't deny her interest in the matter. She'd been waiting for him for so long, that if things were to go in that direction, she didn't think it would cheapen the connection they'd had for so long.

A frisson of nerves lingered below the surface of her skin as she gave herself one last glance in the mirror. It wasn't as if Draco hadn't seen her at her best, her worst, and everything in between.

But for tonight, she wanted to offer her best.

Releasing a shaky breath, she collected her clutch, slipped on her heels, and Apparated away.

* * *

The pair of them had been to Mystico once before for lunch, but Hermione had only heard stories of how it shifted in the evening, into the romantic hotspot for which it had become known.

It didn't surprise her that Draco had wanted to take her out to the nicest restaurant in Diagon Alley for their first official date, despite that they'd been out for a meal together more times than she could count.

They were so familiar, but it all felt different when she walked in to find him waiting, dressed sharply in a well fitted suit and a silver tie that brought out the shimmering facets of his eyes.

Moisture threatened at the corners of her eyes as he slipped a hand to her back, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek with a soft, "Hi," beside her ear. Drawing back, he added under his breath, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she returned, beaming at him. "And you."

With a facetious roll of his eyes, he tossed his hair back. "Thanks, love." His hand lingered on the small of her back—as it had done a hundred times or more—but the contact sent a tingle of anticipation racing through her as he led her through the restaurant to a private alcove, complete with ambient lighting and soft, atmospheric music.

Hermione could feel eyes on them, and even knowing they were often the subject of unfounded gossip in _Witch Weekly_ , she wondered whether they looked different tonight. All the same, she couldn't tear her gaze from him and she found she couldn't be bothered over anything else.

Draco drew her seat out with a flourish and she felt a smile tug at her lips. "You do know I would have been happy with that pizzeria near Hyde Park. You didn't need to go to such lengths."

"Of course," he clipped, offering her a smirk as he took his own seat, fidgeting a little with his serviette. "As I would have as well. But that isn't a fitting start to this, is it?"

_This_. The word whispered along her spine like a shiver; a promise.

Quietly, she returned, "I suppose it isn't." Eyeing him across the table, her lips twitched at the oddity of the situation. No matter how many times they'd been out together before, it had never been a date.

Pouring two glasses from a chilled bottle, he eyed her for a moment, leaning in. "Is everything alright?"

"Perfect," she whispered, uncomfortable to feel moisture stinging at her eyes again. Blinking at him, she forced a smile. "It's lovely—only, we're on a _date_."

Draco huffed a quiet laugh, offering a breathtaking grin. "I know." His expression softened as he lifted his glass towards hers; as she clinked her glass against his, he said, "And here's hoping it's the first of a million."

A tear slipped free as she took a sip, her smile growing impossibly wide as she stared at him.

* * *

"So tell me," Hermione said, leaning back in her seat following a sumptuous meal, "about your deal with Mister Matias. Your news was a little overshadowed last night, I'm afraid."

"By _much_ better news," Draco said, cracking a grin as he idly sipped from his glass. "Apparently Mister Matias finally decided I'm not scum and accepted my offer. I'll be working with him in the interim over the next month until we can transition ownership as smoothly as possible. For both he and I, and for his existing clientele."

"That's wonderful," Hermione said with a grin. She'd felt the tension unwind from within her chest gradually as the meal went on, recognising after her initial nervousness that he was still her Draco. Only now the sentiment acted in a wholly different capacity.

"And," Draco said, folding his serviette into a square and placing it on the table, "I agreed to hire Theo on as an assistant. You know he's been going stir crazy lately, and it'll be nice to have someone around that I trust."

"That's a good idea," Hermione mused, "especially since Harry's been concerned about his morally questionable interest in Time Turners lately."

Draco pointed a finger at her. "That he has. Theo needs to be kept busy and he isn't a terrible potioneer. He'll be able to help out if I need on the brewing side of things."

Nodding, Hermione took a sip from her drink, emptying her glass. He proffered the bottle, pouring another measure when she accepted with a gracious incline of her head.

She could feel Draco's stare on her and knew well enough he meant to say something more. Hesitant, she lifted her brows. "What is it?"

Calculating, he only sat in silence for another long moment, long enough that doubt began to creep in. Then he released a breath, glancing away.

"You do realise that the vow hasn't ended."

If she had taken a sip of her drink at that moment, Hermione would have choked. As it was, her eyes widened in surprise, given of the two of them, he was the one more likely to avoid awkward conversations.

"I am aware," she mused. "Obviously we need to discuss what that will mean, but I didn't think it would come up just yet."

Draco rolled his eyes; her lips twitched.

"Fine," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "I only thought perhaps we should stop ignoring the elephants now that everything else is in the open."

"You're right," Hermione said, making a mocking effort at surprise. His lip curled good-naturedly. "So how do you propose we proceed?"

He stared at her for a moment, lips parted, before he snickered. "Please tell me that was intentional."

Considering the statement, Hermione felt a flush creep up her throat at her choice of words.

Draco barked a laugh, shaking his head; of course he had seen through her hesitation. "Ultimately, I suppose that is the best way to proceed. A proposal." When her eyes snapped up to his, he scoffed. "Obviously not right this minute."

Hermione took a long swig of her drink, unease prickling along the surface of her skin. While she did, of course, realise that the vow required _marriage_ , she hadn't expected it to be a topic of conversation during their first legitimate date.

Clicking his tongue, Draco went on, and she could sense his nerves as well. "I only wanted to be certain we're on the same page regarding… things."

"Things," Hermione echoed, snickering despite the situation. Dropping her voice, she added, "I guess I'd already accepted the fact that we would need to marry if neither of us found someone else. And to be honest, I think I'd stopped looking a while ago when I realised you were the only one I wanted." An overwhelming flood of emotion hung in her chest as she spoke the truth of it, her voice falling. "So the thought of _both_ of us proceeding willingly… I don't have any problems with that, Draco."

She watched the tension visibly sink from his shoulders, his expression softening as he offered a gentle smile. "Good." His hand landed atop hers where it sat on the table, the pad of his thumb brushing her knuckles. "I would be honoured to call you my wife one day."

"One day," she mused, "in the not-so-distant future."

"Inside the next nine months," he teased.

Hermione gazed at him for a moment, humour playing about her lips. "I don't even remember the consequences we decided on."

"You were _very_ drunk." Draco snickered, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be pleasant, if we were to break the vow."

Trying to remember, Hermione squinted her eyes, taking a sip of her wine. "You aren't going to remind me?"

"No. Merlin willing, you'll never find out." He gave her hand a squeeze and she interlaced their fingers, peace settling within her at the easy way they fit together.

Finishing the last sip of her drink, she idly mused, "Did you have plans for the rest of the date?"

Draco's grey eyes snapped to meet hers, infused with heat. Just the intent of his stare reminded her of how he'd kissed her and touched her that morning, and warmth flooded her core with anticipation.

He announced, "Miniature golf."

Startled, she gaped at him. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Staring hard at her, he let out a facetious sigh. "The last _four_ times you've beat me. I'm due a win."

"Not true," she retorted, "you have to earn it."

Then his lips twitched, his knee brushing hers beneath the table. "Unless you had something else in mind."

Leaning in, Hermione whispered, "I might have."

* * *

Barely had they landed back in the sitting room of Draco's flat before his lips were on hers, his hands skating the sides of her dress. In her heels, she was nearly level with his height, and Hermione dragged him towards her, weaving her fingers through his hair.

Her back was to the wall and she could have sworn she heard him _growl_.

Merlin blast it all, she didn't want to wait for him any longer. She delved her tongue into his mouth, chest heaving with the racing of her heart, blood boiling in her veins. He returned her kisses with searing heat, one hand playing about the bare skin of her back below her curls, the other hitching her thigh up around his hip.

Distracted by the way his touch made her feel, Hermione fumbled his jacket from his shoulders, one hand tugging at the knot of his tie, even as he eliminated any space between them, the planes of his chest hard against her curves.

At last she freed his tie, the silk hanging loose from her fingers as he kissed her deeper, the contact between them shifting and growing infinitely more heated as his hand slipped back to her arse, hitching her core to his.

A rough groan slipped her lips; arousal swelled and pooled within her, spurring her onwards. Draco's fingers found the zip of her dress, dragging it down to just above the curve of her arse, his palm grazing her bare skin as he went.

He drew back, only far enough so that she could taste the champagne on his breath; his eyes remained shuttered. In a strained moment, he whispered, "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

Brushing her lips against his, she returned a quiet, "Neither do I."

When his eyes snapped open to meet hers, their usual pale grey darkened with lust, she began slipping the buttons of his shirt, tugging the hem free of his trousers.

A smile curled her lips when she finished, "This is something I've wanted to do for a long time."

A slow grin swept his face as his hesitation sunk almost visibly from his stance. He slipped the strap of her dress from her shoulder, trailing a line of reverent kisses from her jaw down her throat, along her sternum.

His other hand grazed the line of her thigh, still coiled around his waist, his fingers brushing the damp fabric of her knickers beneath her dress. A soft cry chased from her lips at the feel of his soft touch, and he breathed a quiet, "Hermione," as he tugged her knickers to the side, sliding his fingers between her soaked folds.

She fumbled free the last button of his shirt, freezing at the feel of his fingers, his thumb brushing her clit, and her eyes fluttered shut, one hand landing on his shoulder for support.

Draco kissed her, soft and idle, as his fingers worked her into a teasing rhythm. Arching away from the wall, she ground herself into his hand, and he swallowed the quiet groans that slipped from her lips.

"Draco," she gasped, breaths chasing from her lungs as his fingers curled inside of her, pushing her towards her release. He kissed her deeply, coaxing her orgasm forth, and with a final sweep of his thumb across her clit, she came with a cry and a darkening of her vision.

Breathing heavily, Hermione only stared at him for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, before she kissed him again, pushing his shirt fully from his shoulders and shifting her focus towards his belt buckle.

She palmed his erection through his trousers, releasing the closure of his trousers and pushing them free of his hips as he dragged her dress down, letting it pool to the floor.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his gaze roving her body, concealed only by her underwear. And though he'd seen her in her swimsuit numerous times, she felt intensely exposed to the warmth of his eyes.

Then his eyes snapped back to hers, gazing at her through pale lashes, and her next breath tore from her lungs.

Sweeping a curl back from her face, he murmured, "I love you."

Moisture stung at the corners of her eyes at the declaration and she wound her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his with a quiet, "I love _you_."

"You can't imagine how badly I've wanted to hear you say that," he breathed, hitching his arm around her back before he smirked. "Or maybe you can."

"I can." She grinned as he lifted her up by her arse, coiling her legs around his hips as he hauled her towards his bedroom, placing her carefully into the sheets. Within moments he covered her body with his own, his lips seeking hers as she ground against him, their breaths mingling together.

With a deft flick of his fingers he released the clasp of her bra, tossing it to the floor as his hands ran the length of her body, desire for him pulsing once more in her core.

Hermione pushed his shorts from his hips, taking his arousal into her palm and giving it several languorous pumps, drawing a groan from his lips.

Never before had she wanted anyone as badly as she did in that moment, and she pulled the band of her knickers free, shifting as he tugged them the rest of the way, leaving her wholly bared to his gaze.

Desire roiled, hot and needy in her belly, and sweeping her thumb along the head of his cock, she positioned him at her entrance, drawing him in for another searing kiss.

With a curse muffled against her lips, Draco drove into her, stilling in the moment. A groan chased free of Hermione's lips as her head fell back against the pillow, her hands sweeping the muscle of his back before he started to move.

The feel of him inside of her was more than she ever could have imagined, the beats of her heart stuttering in her chest as she drew him impossibly closer.

His breath was warm against her throat as he set a slow, teasing rhythm, hips rolling against hers as he thrust into her again and again. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, Hermione attempted to stem the flow of emotion from within her.

She dragged her nails down his shoulders, arching into him, feeling each movement implicitly, body and soul.

Draco's lips found hers again, his tongue teasing her own to match his slow rhythm, before dragging his teeth along the curve of her jaw, nipping her earlobe.

Then he began moving faster, slamming into her and drawing cries from her lips as she met him for each thrust. His name tumbled from her lips with nonsensical exultations as awareness of him swept through her, fully encompassing anything else.

With a cry of his name, release crashed over her once more as she clutched him to her, and with a few more thrusts he followed her over the edge, stilling.

Grey eyes slid open to find hers, staring down at her, and he swept her hair from her face, a soft smile dancing across his lips as heavy breaths chased from his lungs. Withdrawing from within her, Draco settled at her side, casting a non-verbal cleaning spell on each of them, along with a contraceptive.

Hermione blinked at him, sleep tugging at her eyelids as he wrapped her into his arms and a tangle of blankets. An absent smile crossed her face as she drifted into a blissful oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Happy Saturday everyone. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks so much for reading - I appreciate it more than I can say.
> 
> Alpha creds to the amazing Kyonomiko.


	10. Chapter 10

Although Hermione knew how well she and Draco got on as friends, it had been reassuring that they were able to slip, almost seamlessly, into a romantic relationship. She didn't doubt her feelings for him, but they'd been friends for so long that she wondered whether it might simply feel _too_ platonic.

Those doubts had been well and truly quashed after their first night together—and the subsequent rounds that had followed the next morning—and it had become apparent after the first month that their desire for one another wasn't a mere passing fancy.

When they had shown up at an outing together, officially, Harry had released a great sigh of relief before flashing her a roguish grin.

Hermione had begun to memorise the feel of Draco's hand in hers, his arms around her—the softness of his kisses and the touch of his hands on her skin. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so happy.

They hadn't brought up the topic of their soon-impending marriage again since that first night out, but Hermione no longer dreaded the idea of the vow. She knew she wanted Draco by her side for the rest of her life, and the vow would only ensure that happened.

Feet pounding the cobbled walking path around the backside of Diagon Alley, she slowed to a walk, catching her breath from a brisk jog. A chill had begun to seep into the air and she'd taken to bundling up more before a run.

The convenience of the matter was that the apothecary was only a short trip from Gringotts, so she was often able to visit him on her lunch break. Rounding the shop, she slipped through the front door, the soft tinkling of the bell overhead announcing her presence.

Draco had spent the last month working with Mister Matias to ensure the transition went as smoothly as possible, but as of several days prior the apothecary had transferred fully into his ownership.

An absent smile played about her lips as she strolled the aisles, finding Draco near the counter with a box of assorted vials as he stared at a cabinet of pre-made potions.

"Hi," she said softly, walking up alongside and peering in.

Draco flashed her a winning grin before ducking in and planting a lingering kiss on her lips.

"Oy!" Theo exclaimed, "some of us just ate lunch."

Rolling his eyes, Draco waved Theo away and deepened the kiss, drawing her into his arms. When he drew back with a smirk, Hermione was caught in his stare for a moment.

Theo scoffed, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. "Hullo Hermione, good to see you."

"And you," Hermione returned, taking a look around the shop. "It looks like everything's coming together."

"Nearly," Draco replied, placing a few more vials onto the shelf. Then he reached back towards the counter, handing her an issue of _Witch Weekly_.

Hermione wasn't surprised to see a photograph of the pair of them on the front and she released a low snort. "Again? That's two in a row—it's like we're celebrities or something."

Snickering, Draco shook his head. "Right? Eventually you'd think they'll find _something_ more interesting to talk about than the pair of us."

The gossip rag had had a field day when word got out that the pair of them were finally romantically involved, after years of speculation about the matter. Though Hermione typically rolled her eyes and avoided the reporters, she didn't mind. Draco had always been self-deprecating enough about their friendship, and she didn't want him to doubt their relationship.

She was proud of how far he had come and didn't care who knew about her feelings for him.

"I doubt it," Theo quipped, snatching the periodical from her hand. "Look here—you're _inspiring_ other people to date for love rather than status."

Hermione frowned, the bridge of her nose wrinkling. "It says that?"

Theo offered a grimace, his brows high. "We never said it was _quality_ journalism."

Swiping the magazine from Theo's hands, Draco peered closer. "Whoever wrote this is a massive fucking spoon. Obviously Hermione has more status than I ever could."

One page of the article featured a full-colour image of the two of them, out for a walk along the wizarding high street, Draco's arms around her as they spoke to one another. Without any further regard for the article, she tore the page free and tucked it into her bag, flashing the pair of them a tight smile.

"So," Theo prompted, blowing his fringe out of his eyes, "I've been telling Draco, but for _some reason_ he doesn't care, so—"

Draco released an aggravated sigh, even as his lips twitched. "Theo, go check on the potions."

"So I'll tell _you_ as well," Theo said, shoving Draco aside, "that I'm an accomplished florist."

Gaping, Hermione's gaze slid between them. Theo wore a wide grin as Draco eyed him with disdain. Blinking several times, she said, "A florist?"

"Yes. You know— _bouquets_ and the like."

Heat clawed up her throat, edging into her face as she carefully avoided Draco's stare. "Oh, right, that's—that's good to know, thanks Theo."

Theo offered a solemn nod.

"We aren't really considering those sorts of things just yet," she managed around a grimace. "You know, given we aren't… engaged."

Dragging a hand along the back of his neck, Draco added, "Since we've only been dating a month."

"Furthermore," Theo barrelled on, "I'll need some time off, of course, but I've planned more than a few large-scale events in my days."

"No you haven't," Draco scoffed, a knit in his brows when she glanced his way. "When have _you_ planned an event?" He paused for a moment then added, "Slytherin dorm parties don't count."

Theo scowled.

"Anyways," Hermione interrupted, her voice coming out a little breathy, "these are wonderful things to know for the future. Thanks, Theo."

"I'm also supposed to tell you Harry's been cooking a lot, and he thinks he could make a good caterer."

The three of them blinked at one another for a long moment before Hermione shifted into Draco's side, wishing she could melt into the floor as he coiled an arm around her.

She'd seen Harry prepare simultaneously burnt and runny eggs.

Rarely was Draco lost for words but he only stared at the wall, his lips pursed and twisted to the side.

"Something to think about." Theo flashed them a wide grin, oblivious to the awkward air in the room, and added, "Are you both coming over this weekend?"

Latching on to the change in topic with borderline desperation, Hermione offered a voracious nod. "Yes certainly." Draco only gave a weak nod.

"Excellent." Clapping his hands together, Theo rushed off to the back where Hermione knew they worked on brewing the pre-made potions.

Cautiously, she turned to face Draco and blew out a long breath. "That was interesting."

He swept a hand through his hair, looking a little green. "He means well, he's just a little… overzealous." His eyes slid to meet hers and he added, "Maybe we should be considering these things. I'll be thirty in a little over seven months."

"Maybe we should," she allowed.

He shook his head, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms. "I don't want us to get married because we _have_ to but because we want to."

"It doesn't have to be one or the other," she mused quietly. "Maybe the vow is forcing our hand, sure, but we might never have realised how much we cared about one another if we hadn't been forced to come to terms with it. I _want_ to marry you and I don't care if it's a big event or if we hire a fancy caterer or anything like that."

Draco planted a kiss to her temple, idly toying with her curls. "Maybe you're right." He gave a low chuckle. "Can you imagine how affronted my mother would be if we asked _Theo_ to do the flowers instead of her?"

"I'm just trying to imagine where Theo learned anything about flowers in the first place," she retorted.

From everything she'd heard of the man's upbringing, she couldn't imagine where _flowers_ had played a significant role.

Fidgeting with his tie, Hermione leaned in. "It isn't a bad idea, you know—if we decide to have a small wedding—to let our friends help."

"I'm not trusting anything Potter cooks," Draco deadpanned.

"Neither." She nearly flinched at the thought.

He wrapped his arms around her back, tugging her closer, and said, "If you want something small, we'll do something small." Pressing his lips to hers, he murmured, "But you still need to let me propose first."

"Deal." With a smile, she pulled back, checking her watch. "I'd better get back to work. And I almost forgot—Luther asked me to pick up some Agrippa."

Draco scoffed, giving her arse a squeeze before stepping away. "Tell Luther he can come get his own Agrippa. He hasn't seen the place since we took it over."

Giving him another soft kiss, her tongue grazing his for just a moment, she breathed, "I'll let him know." She shouldered her pack, meeting his eyes with a soft, "See you later?"

Draco's new schedule at the apothecary meant he wasn't available as readily in the evenings and he was often worn out after a full day, especially with transitioning ownership, but she still managed to see him several times a week.

His grey eyes flashed. "Absolutely. I'll Floo in after I'm done here."

With a grin, Hermione called towards the back, "Bye, Theo!"

A loud clattering of what sounded like a cauldron meeting the floor came back towards her, and Draco's eyes widened as he ducked away into the lab.

Smiling, Hermione carried on.

* * *

Hermione had always been one to keep busy, and only rarely did occasion arise to stop and look around her, taking it all in.

Winter had crept in, almost without her notice, covering the ground in a coating of fine white powder, and before she knew it Christmas had arrived.

She and Draco had been together for three months, and as far as Hermione could tell, she felt like they'd been dating for years. Existing together had already been second nature, and she only found herself falling deeper in love with him as the weeks passed.

If there was one thing she knew about Draco since they'd become friends, it was that he loved Christmas.

His father had never been overly keen on the idea of celebrating the holiday, but Draco and his mother had established a tradition of decorating a tree together when he was young which he still carried on as an adult, even though his mother was still living in the villa in Portugal.

The pair of them would be going to visit her at New Years, but Christmas would be just them, and a gathering with their friends the next day.

When Hermione had come to his flat one day in the middle of the month, she'd been astounded to find no fewer than six extravagantly decorated Christmas trees around the large space, and Draco himself with his hair dishevelled and eyes bloodshot.

As she'd looked around, brows wide with astonishment, he'd flashed a grin and held his hands up as if to show off his handiwork.

There were _at least_ three trees more than she could remember from the year prior.

On Christmas Eve, Draco had decided to keep the apothecary open into the evening but sent Theo home to spend the time with Harry, and Hermione found herself lingering in the shop with him, watching as he assisted the occasional customer. But there were few patrons, and shortly after dinner time Draco locked the doors and turned towards her, a curious smile tugging at his lips.

"Did I tell you I'm cooking Christmas dinner tomorrow?"

Brows flickering with idle surprise, she shook her head. "You didn't. Should I be worried?"

Draco's eyes narrowed as he murmured, "Let's hope not."

He wasn't the most proficient chef, though he was able to manage living on his own. One of the Manor elves Apparated in once a week to tidy his large flat but otherwise he looked after himself. Hermione had learned to accept it since she knew Draco treated the elf well and offered him a small salary.

Of course, the idea of preparing a full holiday spread was daunting even to Hermione, who grew up assisting her parents with the task. Christmas always made her think of them, and the life they'd chosen to carry on with in Australia.

Stepping closer, she wound her arms around his back, peering up at him. Draco swept a hand through her curls, holding her stare as she said, "I'll be around to help."

"You're going to relax," he breathed, lips brushing against hers, "and let me spoil you."

Hermione scoffed, even as her heart stuttered in her chest. "You know I don't do well with sitting idle while someone else does all the work."

"I know." He offered her a teasing smile, dragging a hand down to her hip and hitching her towards him. "Are you staying over tonight?"

It was a bit of a rhetorical question, given she'd been spending the nights at his more often than not lately, but she chewed her lip as she nodded. "If that's alright."

"More than," he clipped. "We'll stop for take away? What do you feel like?"

Leaning in, she pressed another soft kiss to his lips and murmured, "You choose."

"I think I feel like Thai tonight." Flashing her a grin, he said, "Let's go."

* * *

Hermione rolled over, eyes drifting open as she slowly awoke. She was wrapped in Draco's embrace, pressed against his bare chest, and he stirred with her movement, his grey eyes finding hers.

"Morning," he drawled, burying his face into his pillow so that his next words came out muffled. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," she echoed, brushing a kiss to his jaw.

Tightening his hold on her, he released a long breath, lips curling with a smile. "It's just occurred to me," he said quietly, "that this is how I'm going to wake up every Christmas for the rest of my life."

Although she had known him so well for so long, every so often Draco still said something that completely caught her off guard. Hermione felt the hot sting of moisture at the backs of her eyes as her heart clenched in her chest.

Tucking herself tighter into his hold, she breathed, "Not necessarily. If we have kids one day I doubt we'll get to sleep in peacefully."

She hadn't seen the time, but judging by how late they'd stayed up the night before, combined with how refreshed she felt, Hermione could only imagine they'd had a lie-in, something she rarely allowed herself to do.

Draco chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him; she made herself comfortable again using his arm as a pillow, eyes sliding to meet his. Wryly, he said, "That's probably true."

They hadn't discussed the topic in any serious capacity, but she knew they were both on the same page about children—eventually. Especially since they were both still relatively fresh in their given career paths, they were in agreement there wasn't any rush.

Threading her hands through his hair, Hermione pressed her lips against his. Drawing back, she whispered, "I love you."

His expression softened, the way it always did when she spoke her feelings aloud, and he brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. "And I love you. Now get up—you're wasting the day."

A slow smile crept across her face. "And apparently, you've got a turkey to overcook."

His answering grimace sowed more doubt than it relieved.

* * *

Several hours later, Draco looked more frazzled than Hermione had ever seen him as he stared around the disaster that had formerly been his kitchen. His hair was a mess and his grey eyes wild as he peered at her across the flat, where she was perched on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea.

Snickering, Hermione turned the page in her book and announced, "I was told you didn't need my help."

"I don't," he managed through an uneasy frown. "And in fact, I have a better idea." Folding his arms, and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, he drawled, "Emerson."

Moments later, with a loud crack, Emerson appeared in the flat, large eyes bulging even wider as he took in the chaos surrounding them. "Master Draco," the elf squeaked, "what has you done?"

Draco offered a weak chuckle, waving his hands vaguely towards several half-prepared dishes. Biting down hard on her bottom lip to refrain from laughing, Hermione watched the spectacle as the elf's chest lifted and fell with heaving breaths.

"He's trying to prepare Christmas dinner, Emerson," Hermione offered, leaning her elbow on the back of the sofa. "And he won't accept my help."

The overwhelmed elf managed a belated nod, drawing in a long breath—for what Hermione could only surmise was courage—before he clapped his hands together with a toothy grin and announced, "Emerson will be happy to help!"

With a tight smile, Draco bit out, "Thank you Emerson."

"Yes," the elf said, waving a hand, "Master Draco must take a shower."

Peering down at himself, then casting her a disgruntled stare, he acquiesced, vanishing into the loo. Hermione giggled to herself, brandished her cup at Emerson who offered another wide grin as he set to work, and returned to her book.

By the time Draco emerged twenty minutes later, looking significantly refreshed, Emerson had not only managed to wrangle his partially completed meal, but the rest of the kitchen was spotless.

Hermione was on her second cup of tea when he sunk into the sofa beside her, shifting her legs across his lap.

"The point is," she mused, sipping her tea, "you tried."

"Points for trying?" he drawled, meeting her eye. "Not _many_ , of course. At least you and I both know Emerson will make something edible."

"True," Hermione said, tilting her head in consideration. "Whereas otherwise, we couldn't be sure."

He nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. "Smartarse. Come for a walk with me?"

Smiling, she returned a quiet, "Of course."

* * *

It was a chilly day but the sun was out, the sky clear and blue overhead. The usual bustle of the area was absent, the air blanketed with a peaceful stillness in the same way a soft layer of fresh snow coated the ground.

As they walked, Draco slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, a pensive frown tugging at his lips.

Hermione eyed him for a moment, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth. "Is something the matter?"

He glanced her way, surprise flitting across his features, before he relaxed. "No, of course not." After a brief hesitation, he added, "Colder than I thought it was." He blew into his palms, rubbing his bare hands together, before slinging an arm around her and dragging her close. "Thank you for spending Christmas with me."

"Where else would I be?" she mused, tucking closer into his hold.

His brows only flickered and he glanced away. "I know you haven't been to visit your parents in a while."

It was true, but partly because she hadn't been keen to ask for a week off when she'd been settling into her new position at Gringotts. And there was the small fact that she might be getting married inside of the next six months.

"I'll arrange something soon," she said at last, quietly as she glanced his way again. "Are you sure you're alright? You're acting very strange."

His lips curled up into a cautious smile. "I'm great."

He stopped, leaning against a railing that enclosed a small pond, frozen with the winter, and casually entwined their fingers. Gazing idly sideways, he spoke so quietly she nearly had to strain to hear him.

"I know things have been unconventional between us for a while," he said, his thumb grazing the back of her hand, even as his eyes remained fixed elsewhere. "And I want you to know that where we're at _now_ —I wouldn't have it any other way."

In her chest, Hermione's heart stuttered a beat before carrying on, and she managed a thick swallow. "What are you getting at?"

"I just…" he dragged a hand through his hair, ruffling it out of place. "Obviously there's this blasted vow to deal with and I wish it wasn't a consideration because I need you to know—" He cut himself off, his eyes finally seeking out her own. "I love you. And it isn't because I feel like I _should_ or because we don't have a choice in the matter—"

Hermione found herself caught in his stare, her lips parting to speak, but instantly she snapped it shut again. Draco had such a way with words that he rarely fumbled or misspoke, and it was disarming to see.

At last she whispered, "I love you, too."

Drawing a deep breath, he thinned his lips before going on. "It's because you're everything to me. You have been for so long, it just took me a long time to realise the truth of the matter." A furrow knit his brow and he shook his head gently. "I can't imagine not having you at my side."

"Draco," Hermione breathed, her eyes stinging with emotion as his words seeped beneath her skin, setting her blood racing in her veins. "You're the only one I want, and I don't give a damn about any vow."

The slightest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as something flickered in his gaze. He fumbled a hand in his pocket, drawing out a small box within his fingers.

Hermione wasn't certain whether her heart didn't stop for a breath.

"Here's what I know," he breathed, fidgeting idly with the box, "about vows." He snapped open the box, revealing a gorgeous ring, white gold with an intricate series of ornate gemstones surrounding a shimmering diamond. Briefly she wondered whether it was an heirloom. Hermione could scarcely see through her tears, blinking as he went on.

"I vow to be true to you," he said quietly, "for the rest of our lives. I vow to protect you—even when you don't think you need protecting. I vow to love you, through the good times and the bad." He glanced at her, his eyes glassy, when she gave a sniffle. "And I vow, Hermione Granger, to be everything I possibly can for you—and to do my best to be everything you deserve."

Clapping a hand to her mouth, Hermione stifled a sob, lost for words as her heart danced in her chest.

"So…" he trailed off, doleful eyes meeting hers, his expression soft and raw as he dropped to one knee in the snow. "WIll you marry me—regardless of anything else or any stupid mistakes we made in the past—" Hermione choked on a laugh, a slow grin creeping across her face as he finished, "And make me the happiest man in the world?"

Nodding, a fervent, "Yes," slipped through her lips before she could even think, tears coursing down her cheeks.

A devastating grin stretched across his face. "I need you to be honest because if you agree I'm never letting you go."

"You prat," she whispered, "It would be my honour."

Barely had she blinked before she was engulfed in his embrace, her arms coiling tightly around his middle as silent tears poured from her eyes, and she could feel his heart racing against her face as she pulled him closer still.

When he drew back, his eyes were glazed before he kissed her, his lips firm against her own as she sunk into his hold, feeling as if there was nowhere else she would sooner be for the rest of her life.

He drew the ring from the box, an absent smile lingering on his lips as he placed it on her finger.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, gazing enraptured at the jewels before she teased, "You have excellent taste."

"My _mother_ has excellent taste," he corrected with a grin, "and she will be _very_ excited about this."

She gazed at the ring, a perfect fit to her finger, for only a moment before she fixed her eyes back on him. "I love you. And I look forward to the rest of our lives together—for real, and not because of anything else."

With another soft, lingering kiss, he said, "I can't wait." Taking her hand into his, he planted a kiss to her knuckles where the ring now sat, the feel of it unfamiliar but full of promise. "I love you more than I can say."

Hermione's heart felt fit to burst as she gazed at him, until finally he snickered and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

"I really was not anticipating it to be this cold," he said with a chuckle. "Shall we go see what Emerson's made of my mess?"

As if his words had brought her back to the situation, a shiver crept through her even as she flashed him a wide smile. "Absolutely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading, everyone. A bit of a fluffy one today. I hope you're all keeping well!
> 
> Alpha hugs to Kyonomiko.


	11. Chapter 11

The familiar tinkle of the bell above the door as she slipped into Draco's apothecary after work had become the most soothing part of Hernione's day.

Almost before she'd crossed the threshold, however, Theo's face appeared in her way, a banal smile stretching his visage. "Oh, good, you're here. I need to show you something."

"Let me guess," Hermione mused, lips curling with humour, "it's about flowers."

"It _is_ about flowers," Theo confirmed, leading her through the shop, directly past Draco who eyed the pair of them with a raised brow, and into the back where they brewed the stock potions for sale. An entire row of cauldrons was gone, however, and in their place was a selection of floral arrangements.

Some days, Hermione wished they had simply asked Narcissa to take care of the flowers for their wedding, since it would only be a small affair anyways. But Draco's mother had been so idly bemused at the thought of _Theo_ acting as their florist she had simply offered the Malfoy gardens for their selection and left Theo to it.

But then other days, Hermione saw how pleased Theo was that he'd been offered the task, and ultimately she wasn't concerned either way.

Unless it interfered with Draco's livelihood, of course.

"Theo," Hermione broke in, "where are the potions?"

Draco slipped into the back room, an irritable twist to his mouth as he announced, "Theo's decided we don't _need_ to sell any potions this week."

"It's temporary," Theo snipped with a dismissive wave. " _Now_ , Hermione, I'd like you to take a look at these selections."

On the bench nearest her were no fewer than eight different bouquet arrangements, all slightly varied but featuring a number of the same flowers in the same colours. Hermione had never claimed herself to be an expert in flowers, and most of them looked similar to her untrained eye.

Though, they still weren't certain whether Theo was trained in any capacity either.

Flashing Theo an uneasy grin, and dragging her eyes to Draco, who eyed her with wry amusement, she announced, "I just can't decide—which one do you like best, Draco?"

Draco's eyes tightened for a moment. "It's all the same to me if I get to marry you, love."

Scowling, Hermione fixed him with a hard stare. He couldn't expect to get out of the situation that easily.

"Which one do _you_ like best, Theo?" Hermione asked, wheeling back to their overzealous friend. "Personally I think they're all beautiful."

"Well," Theo began, his chest puffing out as he approached the table, brandishing a hand towards the first, "as you see, this particular bouquet contains—"

"You know what?" Hermione interrupted, fixing a bright smile to her face. "Why don't you surprise me?"

Theo cocked a brow. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." With a vigorous nod, Hermione brandished the nearest one; several petals fell to the floor. "They're all so lovely and I trust you'll pick the best one. After all, we only need my bouquet and the boutonnières since the wedding party is small."

Perhaps it was unconventional that she'd selected Harry as her Man of Honour, but nothing about their wedding was particularly _conventional_ , and she and Draco had decided to keep the wedding party small. Theo would be not only the florist, but the Best Man.

And the look on Harry's face, the glossy sheen that had overtaken his eyes when she had asked him was worth the deliberations.

It was slightly ironic, that she had always expected Draco's wedding would be grandiose and overdone. But given the time constraints—they had decided to marry in the middle of spring—it simply didn't make sense to go over the top with every last thing.

As well, she suspected Draco may have been tempering his natural impulses in favour of her desires for something simple. All she cared about, at the end of the day, was marrying her best friend with their closest friends and family to bear witness.

The one concession they'd both agreed upon was dress shopping. Hermione's parents would be flying in the week before the wedding, and she had decided to wait until her mother would be in London to go shopping. Narcissa would be joining them as well, along with Harry.

Having been a young girl in the Muggle world, Hermione had been initially mortified at the thought of having less than a week to select a dress, knowing how long it took to order one in.

But Draco had only clicked his tongue with a chuckle, and announced, "That's the power of magic."

Not to mention he and his mother knew the finest wizarding tailors in England, and she suspected they'd pulled some strings.

Theo was still eyeing the series of bouquets before them when she glanced his way again, before he flashed her a wide grin. "I know just the thing—you'll love it."

Refraining from a sigh of relief, Hermione nodded. "I knew I could count on you."

Draco snickered at her side, his shoulder brushing hers.

"One more thing," Theo said, turning back to her. "Harry's been preparing a selection of cakes, and he would like the pair of you to come over one night this week for a tasting."

Allowing Harry to prepare the cake was another concession.

Neither she nor Draco had been confident enough in Harry's cooking skills to allow him to cater the entire meal, but the cake seemed a simple enough thing that if he were to destroy one attempt, he could always prepare another.

And the rest would be a matter of hoping.

Draco had suggested most of their guests would be half-drunk by the time the cake was served anyways, and would be more forgiving.

"That sounds great," Hermione said with a sharp nod. "Thanks Theo. Tell Harry we'll come by—" She cast a glance towards Draco.

"Tonight," he affirmed. "We'll close at eight and come over."

Clapping his hands together, Theo gave a somber nod. "Excellent."

"Now," Draco drawled, a wry twist to his lips, "get these flowers off the workbench and start brewing."

Hermione shared a conspiratorial grin with Theo before she ducked out of the room after her fiancé.

* * *

When she and Draco arrived at Grimmauld Place later that evening, Hermione was surprised to find Harry in the kitchen, surrounded by a wide variety of miniature cakes.

Even Draco looked impressed as he eyed the assortment of different flavours, each one dressed with different types of icing, and she wondered whether she would need to roll him home after he was through. He'd always had a notorious sweet tooth.

But still, the fact remained that very rarely did Harry produce anything edible, and she hoped he hadn't gone to all this work for nothing.

Harry flashed a grin as he ushered them into two chairs on one side of the table, and Hermione caught Draco's eye with humour tugging at her lips.

"Harry, did you make all of these cakes?" she asked, eyeing the generous spread before them. She'd thought Theo's selection of bouquets had been overwhelming, but that had nothing on the many desserts.

"Yeah," Harry said, affecting a casual shrug. "Took the day off work." As she stifled a snicker, he added, "Only the best for your wedding."

The laugh plummeted into her stomach, replaced with something more sentimental as it stung at her eyes. She grasped his hand in hers with a smile. "Thank you, Harry. This means a lot."

Theo slipped into the kitchen, surreptitiously eyeing the cakes as he joined them at the table with a fork.

"Honestly, Potter," Draco said, blowing out a breath. "This is more than we expected. Thanks."

Harry offered a chuckle, colour blooming in his cheeks as he dragged a hand along the back of his neck. "Well, you ought to try them first before you say too much. I'm not entirely certain how many are edible."

Biting down hard on her bottom lip, Hermione deliberately kept her eyes on the cakes to avoid catching Draco's stare. When Harry presented the first, announcing it to be chocolate with raspberry cream frosting, Hermione speared a bite of it with her fork.

"It's delicious," she announced, eyes widening with surprise as she took another bite.

"This," Draco said, swallowing a large forkful, "is good cake, Potter."

Across from them, Theo shifted anxiously in his seat, eyeing the small cake. Hermione snickered and shifted the plate so he could reach it as well.

"Thanks," Theo said, flashing her a grin as he sheared off a bite with the edge of his fork. "Harry wouldn't let me sample any of them."

"Because you aren't the one getting married," Harry scolded, then almost instantly glanced away, clenching his jaw. Absently, Hermione caught Draco's stare.

The way the pair of them acted, they might as well be a married couple.

Unfortunately, the next cake was less delectable, a vanilla cake so dry the three of them had required glasses of milk to swallow it down. Harry had offered the room a bit of a grimace and an uneasy chuckle before quickly removing the second plate and presenting the third.

There were twelve cakes in all, and by the time they'd all tasted the final one, Hermione was so full of dessert she wasn't sure how easily she'd be able to stand. She had been particularly fond of a light and fluffy coconut cake with crushed pineapple filling.

Draco's favourite remained the first they'd tried, chocolate with raspberry, and without any persuading at all, Harry had offered to make a large version of each for the wedding.

Before they left, Hermione pulled Harry aside into the sitting room, leaving Draco and Theo alone in the kitchen. She dragged him into an embrace before taking a seat on the sofa.

"Thank you for doing this, Harry," she mused as he sat alongside her. "I really appreciate everything you and Theo are doing to help us out."

A soft smile tugged at Harry's mouth. "We're happy to help. I'm just happy you've found someone you want to marry—and that the two of you have finally stopped dancing around one another."

"I am too," Hermione breathed, warmth stinging at the corners of her eyes. "I know it's strange, with the vow and all, but I feel like this is all exactly how things were meant to play out between us."

Harry nudged her in the shoulder, drawing her gaze to his emerald stare. "It's all moving very fast. Are you sure you're okay with everything?"

"Yes," she affirmed, drawing in a deep breath. "I've never been interested in a big wedding anyways." Smiling, she gave a singular nod. "All I need is friends and family, and Draco."

She could still feel his gaze lingering on her, and Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her tightly into his side. "I'm happy for you, Hermione. You've always been there for me and I'll be honoured to stand with you on your big day."

Attempting to conceal a sniffle, she nodded again. "Thanks Harry."

"And," he went on, staring at her for a moment, "I don't think I ever properly thanked you. I know we all gave you a hard time when you started spending time with Draco all those years back, but if it wasn't for that I never would have come to know Theo."

A slow grin spread across her face. "And now you're utterly smitten with him, Harry Potter." At Harry's sheepish grin, she added, "And he is of you. Who knows—maybe the two of you will be next."

With a flippant shrug, Harry fluttered his brows and murmured, "Who knows."

They both looked up to see Draco and Theo lingering in the doorway, speaking quietly between them, and Hermione caught Draco's eye as he tilted his head towards the grate. Chewing on her bottom lip, she nodded before turning back to Harry.

"We'd better go, but thanks again for all the cake."

Standing, she wrapped her arms around Harry again, then hugged Theo as well for good measure as Draco clapped Harry on the back, before they ventured through the Floo to Draco's flat.

They'd barely ventured through the grate before Hermione found herself swept up in his arms, his lips seeking hers.

Pressing his temple to hers, he murmured, "This all feels so real."

"It is," Hermione agreed, drawing back to meet his eye. "It's so soon."

His lips tugged into a smirk, even as indecision hovered behind his eyes. "No second thoughts yet I hope?"

"Never," she breathed, finding his lips again.

Deepening the kiss for a moment, he muttered, "Good, because you don't have an option." Then he pulled away with a grin and added, "When are you going to come live with me?"

Startled, she blinked at him. The details of their living arrangement had been swept under the wedding preparations, although they'd reasonably decided it would make sense to keep his flat, which was both nicer and in a more central location. But Hermione had figured since he hadn't mentioned it that they wouldn't focus on that until they were married.

Realistically, they already spent most nights together anyways, so it wouldn't be much different than the last several months.

Hermione coiled her fingers in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, holding his stare. "Whenever you want me to."

"I was only thinking," he mused quietly, "because these last weeks leading up to the wedding will be chaotic, and then we'll be leaving and it might be nice if everything's sorted before so we don't have to worry about it after."

Draco's extravagant nature had come out the day he'd shown up at Gringotts to barter with Tennyson as to the length of time her boss would give her for a honeymoon. Ultimately, they'd decided on three weeks, a period during which Theo had demanded extra pay for running the apothecary alone.

"My parents are arriving in two weeks," she said quietly, "so maybe this weekend or next would work."

"This Saturday," Draco suggested, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I've already asked Theo to mind the shop for the day and we can move your things over."

Her heart stuttered in her chest at the thought. "This Saturday it is."

* * *

Between her time spent in Paris, her new job, and everything in between, Hermione hadn't found the time to visit her parents in Brisbane in over a year. Ordinarily she made a point of Portkeying in for at least a week each year.

And so by the time her parents arrived back in London, nine days before the wedding, Hermione was overjoyed at the thought of seeing them. Her mother's friendly smile and her father's comforting embrace were a balm to her frazzled soul, overwhelmed with last minute preparations.

Her parents would be staying in a hotel but they visited the flat first upon arriving since Hermione was officially living there. Although they had met Draco before, a few years ago when he'd gone along to Brisbane with her as a vacation, it hadn't been in the capacity of her future husband.

Of course, the only people they'd willingly confided in with regards to the vow were Harry and Theo, and to everyone else they had merely proclaimed it a short engagement because they already knew one another so well and didn't want to delay.

Thankfully no one had questioned them.

It wasn't that Hermione didn't want people to know about the vow, she merely didn't want it to colour anyone's interpretation of _why_ they had chosen to get married. Because Hermione had come to know the truth of the matter between her and Draco, even though she'd been uncertain for a long time.

And the simple truth was that she loved him, and he felt the same. The vow had only accelerated a timeline that may have worked out in the end anyways.

Every so often Hermione considered the thought that the timing between them may never have worked out if not for the vow, but she didn't like to dwell on that for long.

Thankfully, Draco had never been lacking in charm, and her parents loved him as she knew they would.

The following morning, Hermione ventured to Twilfitt and Tattings with her mother Jean, Narcissa, and Harry, who looked both out of sorts and thrilled.

While the mothers introduced themselves and made idle chatter about the impending nuptials, Harry nudged her in the side with a grin. "Can't believe you invited me wedding dress shopping."

She smacked him in the arm. "You're my best friend and my Man of Honour. Who else was I going to invite?"

"Theo is incredibly jealous, you should know," he teased and she flashed him a grateful smile, feeling some of her nerves seep away. "He claims because _both_ of us went suit shopping with Malfoy that we should both come for the dress shopping too."

Hermione snickered, shaking her head as she trailed her fingers along the nearest gown, white lace with a wide flare towards the floor. "You went suit shopping because you needed a suit." Harry only lifted a brow with a roll of his eyes.

"I know you've got everything figured out already," Harry said, selecting a few gowns and hanging them on a rolling rack that followed along as they walked, "but are you certain about the venue?"

Releasing a sigh, Hermione glanced across the shop to where her mother and Narcissa had already loaded at least a dozen dresses onto their rack.

"We weren't certain at first," Hermione said with a sigh, "given the bad memories both of us have there. And Narcissa hasn't even been living at the Manor. But the gardens are as picturesque as possible, and I think it will really mean something for Draco to develop some good memories again, you know?"

"I suppose you won't be in the house at all," Harry mused, glancing between two dresses.

"Not at all," Hermione confirmed. "Everything will be in the gardens, and Narcissa's preparing a tent for the reception."

She could feel Harry's stare lingering on the side of her head as she fingered the silk of a dark turquoise gown with a high collar. The good news was that whatever style she liked could be transitioned into any fabric she chose, and fitted exactly to her without any delay. Eventually she dragged her gaze towards him, worrying her bottom lip.

"Do you think you and Malfoy will move there one day?"

"Maybe," she breathed with a bit of a shrug. "The flat is nice for now but one day we'd like to have a family and… it might be nice to raise them in the ancestral home. There will be a lot we'd like to change though, and Draco agrees."

Harry released a breath, nodding. "I guess it's all about a new start—new memories."

"Right," Hermione affirmed with a smile. "Like you and Theo living in Grimmauld. It's important to remember the history but move on in the present. For the future."

"Well," Harry said with a chuckle, hanging up another three dresses, "if that doesn't sound like you and Malfoy I don't know what does." As they made their way towards the dressing area where Jean and Narcissa were already waiting, he clapped her on the shoulder. "This is an arse-load of dresses. Have fun."

Eyes wide, Hermione looked at the two overflowing racks as Harry sat down beside her mother, already dabbing at teary eyes, with a wide smile.

"Oh, and by the way," Harry added, fixing her with a hard stare, "he's going to love whichever one you pick no matter what. Because he loves you."

With a great sniffle, she nodded with a whispered, "Thanks, Harry."

As an assistant fluttered over, selecting the first dress, Hermione allowed herself to be pulled into the dressing room, hoping she would recognise the right one when she saw it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Just one chapter and a mini epilogue left to go of this little story :) I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Plentiful hugs to Kyonomiko for her assistance with this fic.


	12. Chapter 12

The morning of the wedding was on Hermione before she could fully fathom it. Citing tradition, Draco had spent the night at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Theo, leaving Hermione alone in their massive flat.

Sprawling out in their king-size bed, Hermione stretched, a smile crossing her face at the thought that she would be getting married—

She froze, absently grappling for her wand on the nightstand as she heard noise coming from the sitting room and stalked to the doorway before sinking back against the frame as she peered out.

"Hi," she huffed, taking in the matching grins of Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Rubbing at her eyes, she muttered, "You frightened me near to death. What are you doing here?"

Folding her arms, Pansy clicked her tongue as she assessed Hermione's wild hair, fresh from sleep. "Draco gave us Floo access. Said he didn't want you to have to worry about anything today." She cast Daphne a stare, her lips curling with a wry smile. "Hasn't he just turned into a big softie."

Daphne's grin only widened as she lifted her hands into the air. "We're going to help you get ready for the wedding! Aren't you excited?"

Hermione blinked at the pair of them, and finally a smile tugged at her own lips, spreading into her cheeks. "Yes," she admitted, allowing the tension to sink from her shoulders. "I'm very excited."

"Good," Pansy clipped, "now get in the shower. We don't have all day."

The former Slytherin girls had slipped into her life through the years, much as all of Draco's friends had done. And now, instead of facing the idea of preparing for her wedding alone, she was glad to have company. Her heart skittering in her chest at his thoughtfulness, Hermione made for the shower.

An hour later, the three of them sipped coffee and picked at scones Daphne had brought as Pansy performed some sort of miracle on Hermione's hair, smoothing the wild waves into glossy curls that spiralled down her back. Wearing a look of intense focus, she tucked some of the curls back, leaving others hanging loose, and somehow, she'd woven parts of Hermione's hair into an intricate plaited crown complete with decorative hair pins.

A sense of peace had come across Hermione as the girl worked, the pair of them prattling about their thoughts on the wedding, and she allowed herself to enjoy the morning. Once Pansy was through, Daphne pulled out her makeup bag, and though Hermione was hesitant, the end result was tasteful, smoothing her complexion and drawing attention to her eyes without being overdone or gaudy.

Even though she hadn't been friendly with the girls at Hogwarts, some of the rough edges between the three of them had been rubbed away over the years, and she'd come to consider the pair of them friends.

As Pansy picked through Hermione's modest jewellery box—something she hadn't given too much thought in her preparations—she mused, "Draco tells me you're working with Luther Tennyson at Gringotts. What's he like?"

Daphne snickered, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Be more obvious, Pans."

Hermione eyed Pansy for a long moment, a laugh hovering on her lips. "Seriously? Luther's great—I'll introduce you."

"I already know him," Pansy clipped, the words dismissive, but a hint of colour bloomed in her cheeks. "He manages our accounts."

"She wants to _know_ him," Daphne teased.

Hermione found herself laughing, enjoying the idle chatter with other girls, when she spent most of her time with men. And once Daphne had completed her makeup, all three of them turned towards Hermione's dress, hanging on the wall where she'd placed it the night before after Draco had left.

A hush fell over them.

"It's stunning," Daphne whispered, breaking the silence. Pansy gave a sniffle and Hermione felt her own eyes sting.

She had never considered herself the sort of girl that cared all that much about what her wedding dress looked like. But the moment she had tried it on, as much of a cliché as she'd always found it, she knew it was the one. And even if she hadn't, the blubbering of her mother and mother-in-law to be would have solidified it.

The gown was pure white with a sweetheart neckline and an overlay of delicate lace that covered the bodice down to the slight flare of the skirt. It was simple but gorgeous and Hermione loved everything about it.

Pansy's thin fingers curled around her shoulder as she said softly, "Draco is going to die when he sees you. Let's get you ready for the aisle."

* * *

By the time Hermione arrived in a small preparation tent in the gardens at Malfoy Manor, nerves had begun creeping in. Daphne and Pansy shared one last appraising look, tugging her into careful hugs, before they made for their seats. From the opening, Hermione could see a small crowd gathered, but as per their wishes, it was only close friends and family in attendance.

Blowing out a breath, she turned to find Harry and Theo staring at her with identical, watery stares. Theo clapped a hand over his mouth with a loud sniff.

"You look beautiful," Harry said quietly, clapping a hand awkwardly to her arm as if he didn't want to chance damaging her hair or makeup. Theo only nodded voraciously, moisture seeping from the corners of his eyes. Hermione fought to hold in her own tears as Harry's emerald eyes flickered up to meet hers. "He's a lucky man, Hermione."

Snagging her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded. "I'm lucky to have him."

Theo released a loud sob and Harry slung an arm around his shoulders with a grin. "He's happy for you. We both are."

Her own eyes watery, Hermione gave Theo's elbow a brief squeeze.

"Why don't you two take a minute?" Patrick Granger mused towards Harry and Theo as he walked over with a soft smile. "Pull yourselves together, yeah." Then his gaze landed on Hermione, and real tears threatened again. "You're so beautiful, pumpkin. Your mum and I are so proud of you."

After everything she had faced with her parents—the fear for their lives, fighting to restore their memories, wondering whether they could ever fully trust her again—hearing those words from her father was the final straw, and tears broke from her eyes as she choked on a quiet sob.

"Thanks, pops." Unconcerned about her hair or makeup, she wrapped her arms around her father in a tight embrace, seeking comfort in his hold. "It means so much to me that you and Mum are here."

After a long moment, her father carefully untangled himself from her, his shoulders sinking. "You know we wouldn't have missed this for the world. It hasn't always been easy, but we love you." She could see the emotional strain in her father's face as well, and it made it harder to control herself as she carefully dabbed at the tears that had broken free. "And Draco's a good man—you'll be in great hands with him."

"I know," she whispered, holding her father's stare, identical to her own.

When her eyes flickered to the side, Harry and Theo were watching them, hands clasped.

Harry offered her an encouraging nod. "Are you all set to go?"

With a watery smile, she nodded. "I think so."

His lips pressed into a firm line, Theo brandished a bouquet and pressed it into her hands. Hermione stared at the beautiful flowers for a long moment, soft greens and yellows with dusty pink. She noticed Harry, Theo, and her father wore matching boutonnières.

"Thank you, Theo. They're wonderful."

A soft smile tugged at his lips; he blew out a long breath and linked his elbow with Harry's. Leaning out of the entrance of the tent, Harry gestured to someone and soft, tinkling piano music began to play. Her eyes stung again as the soft notes wafted back towards them.

Harry clapped her on the shoulder once more, and the pair of them were gone.

Then Hermione turned back towards her father with a deep, steadying inhale. After everything she and Draco had been through, from a tumultuous childhood, complex adolescence, and the blossoming of the deep friendship they'd grown into over the years.

And now this, the day she would marry him and promise herself to him for the rest of their lives together.

Her father briefly wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a gentle squeeze, before proffering his arm. With a soft smile lingering on her lips, she slipped her arm into his, the tension once more seeping away as she thought of Draco waiting for her on the other side of the gardens.

It was one of the most surreal moments of her life.

Straightening her shoulders, she allowed her father to lead her out into the gardens. Narcissa had outdone herself; the atmosphere was peaceful and romantic, the sun high in the sky as Emerson played the piano dressed in a small suit.

Hermione's eyes were drawn forward, below a beautifully decorated arch, and her heart stopped in her chest.

Even from a distance, she could feel Draco's eyes locked on her. She swallowed, feeling her heart pick up into a gallop, but she couldn't tear her stare from his, and all the rest of it melted away.

Draco always looked good—but as she drew nearer, the strength of his posture, the hard line of his jaw, the slight glassiness to his eyes as they followed her approach—Hermione wasn't certain she was breathing anymore.

Her father released her with a soft kiss to her temple, and as she stood before Draco she felt as if everything had finally fallen into place. She could see his emotion plainly on his face and it matched the way her heart felt as it leapt in her chest, chaotic and celebratory and with a gentle serenity all the same as she stared up at him.

"Hi," he breathed, swiping brusquely at one eye as he took her hand into his.

She could only gasp a quiet, "Hello," in return.

As she finally turned to view the small gathered crowd, she found her mother and Narcissa in the front row, hands clasped and silent tears tracking down each of their cheeks. Their friends beamed at her, and her eyes lingered for only a moment on each guest in turn, offering Teddy Lupin a brief wave as his hair transformed to match her bouquet.

Draco's hand gave hers a squeeze and she looked back towards him, at last feeling a smile curling her lips. His thumb grazed the engagement ring on her finger for a moment before he said below his breath, "I get to marry you today."

The sentiment fluttered deeply in her own chest, tears stinging at her eyes once more as she offered a nod.

A hush fell over the crowd as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward to begin the ceremony, and Hermione found herself focused only on the feel of Draco's hand in hers.

And the joyous rhythm of her heart.

* * *

Hermione could scarcely believe she was married. Hours later, the thought still hadn't quite settled in.

All around them in the large tent Narcissa had set up for the reception—complete with ambient lighting, a buffet of the finest elf-made food, and a dance floor—their friends and family celebrated. Hermione was glad they had kept the wedding small so they could simply spend the day with the people that meant the most to them.

As she slipped into a seat beside Draco at a large table with Harry, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy, she felt herself relax. Draco eyed her between sips of champagne, coiling an arm around her and dragging her chair closer.

His eyes met hers for a moment before he planted a kiss into her hair with a quiet, "I love you. Wife."

"Love you," she whispered in return, feeling her heart swell at the thought.

For as much fun as she'd had getting ready for the wedding—especially since so many of their friends had helped with the preparations—she greatly anticipated being married to Draco. She looked forward to the life they would build together, the ups and the downs, and the family they would one day have.

Luther Tennyson strolled past, clutching a tumbler of whisky, and Hermione's stare flickered to Pansy for a moment, whose gaze idly followed the man.

"Luther," Hermione blurted before she could think twice. Her boss stopped dead, swivelling on the spot with a banal smile. "Come join us."

"Certainly," he responded, slipping into an empty seat between Hermione and Pansy. "Seems congratulations are in order. It was a wonderful wedding."

"Thank you," Hermione murmured as Luther clapped her on the shoulder before reaching across her to shake Draco's hand. Draco flashed the man a wide grin.

"And I hear," Luther went on, his gaze darting to Draco, "I'm giving you three weeks off for the honeymoon."

"Four," Draco scoffed into his glass.

Luther's eyes tightened. "The agreement was three." When neither of them spoke, merely staring one another down, he sighed. "Three and a half."

At last Draco conceded with a nod.

Snickering despite herself and the situation, Hermione only shook her head. "Luther, I believe you know my friend Pansy Parkinson."

Pansy's eyes widened for an instant as she sipped on her drink, before she offered a smile. "Hello Mister Tennyson."

"I do," Luther said with a nod, his gaze flickering towards Pansy and lingering for a moment. "It's nice to see you, Miss Parkinson."

"And you," Pansy all but purred.

Draco's brows shot up into his hairline and Hermione bit down on her bottom lip to hold back a laugh. As Luther turned to engage Pansy in conversation, Draco muttered, "That's interesting." Then he set down his empty glass, turning back towards Hermione. "Dance with me?"

Although her heart stuttered in her chest, Hermione nodded, allowing Draco to help her to her feet as he walked her towards the dance floor at the other end of the tent.

She could feel the tension seep from within her as she wound her arms around his neck, his own coiling around her as he drew her in closer, drawing in a deep breath.

Meeting her eyes, he considered her for a moment before giving a slow shake of his head. "You are _so_ stunning." Biting down on his lower lip to stifle a groan, he added, "This _dress_."

Warmth crept up her throat and bloomed in her cheeks as she returned, "And you are incredibly handsome."

"I can't believe you're mine." A wry smirk curled his lips, his hands tightening on her. "Forever."

"Forever," she echoed, the word washing over her like a promise as she laid her head on his chest, moving slowly to the soft music. "I'm so excited to be married to you, no matter how it all played out."

"Maybe in the end," he mused, "that blasted vow turned out to be a good thing."

A bright laugh escaped her lips as she drew back to look up at him. "I suppose it probably was."

Silence fell over them once more, Hermione basking in the feel of him as her heart settled in her chest, more at peace than she could remember being in years. She could feel eyes on them, but lost in his hold she only relaxed further, her eyes fluttering shut. For as much as it had been wonderful, it had been a long, exhausting day.

After another long moment, Draco murmured, "Everyone was so great to help us out. My mother outdid herself with the decorations."

Hermione hummed, her lips tugging into a smile. "Theo's a natural born florist, as it turns out."

Draco laughed, his hands trailing up the column of her spine. "And even Potter's cakes went over well. Just watch, all this will go to their heads and they'll be announcing their joint wedding planning venture."

She grinned, meeting his stare again. "I haven't tried any yet. Thanks for asking Pansy and Daphne to come over this morning. It was nice to spend some time with them."

He clicked his tongue with a grin. "They like you. And Pansy and Luther? I never would have guessed but I suppose I can see it.

Hermione only offered him a shrug, eyes sparkling. "I never thought I'd have so many Slytherins at my wedding," she teased, then added, "how was last night with Harry and Theo?"

Draco snickered, shaking his head. "It was great. Those two are a lot to handle all at once, but it was fun."

Hermione privately agreed with the sentiment, although Harry and Theo were her closest friends outside of Draco, and she knew he felt the same, as much as he and Harry still had a tendency to rib one another.

A number of other couples had drifted onto the dance floor, and Hermione could think of no place she'd sooner be than in Draco's arms as he idly led them, neither particularly focused on dancing. Her eyelids felt heavy from the rush of the day and several glasses of champagne, and Draco stifled a wide yawn.

"What do you say," he murmured into her ear, "we get you some cake and I can take my new bride home?"

Even as she cuddled deeper into his embrace, she smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

She could feel the smile as his lips met her temple.

* * *

Back home in their flat, Hermione released a long sigh of relief. The wedding had been wonderful, but at the end of the day she was able to return home, married. And the thought of a life spent together meant more to her than a large party with their friends and family.

Eyeing her sidelong for a moment, Draco dragged her onto the sofa in his arms, still in her wedding dress, and planted a kiss as he adjusted her between his legs lengthwise.

"That was exhausting," he muttered, voicing the sentiment as she felt it innately. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Rolling her head around to face him, Hermione captured his lips in a soft kiss, threading her fingers back through his hair. As she drew back, she found his eyes with a quiet, "Husband."

His lips twitched. "Wife." Pressing another kiss to her temple, then her jaw, he murmured, "Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?"

"I don't know," she mused, staring at the ceiling as she traced idle patterns on his arm where he embraced her. "I thought you already had a plan."

Draco hadn't implicitly told her where he wanted to go, but the Malfoy estate owned property all across Europe, and he'd mentioned the idea of going a few different places. His shoulders lifted with a bit of a shrug behind her.

"I have a few ideas, but I want to do what you're interested in."

His lips found hers again and she deepened the kiss, almost lazily, her tongue teasing against his as her eyes fell shut. When she drew back, breathless, she said, "I trust you."

So many aspects of her life were planned, scheduled, and arranged. She was looking forward to spending a few weeks with Draco where they could simply do as they pleased. In fact, she couldn't remember looking forward to anything more, even the wedding, because for so long she had dreamed of a life together with him at her side.

And this would be just the beginning.

Gazing into his eyes, she felt moisture sting at her own as she breathed, "I love you."

His expression faltered for a moment, a knit lifting between his brows before he shifted her on the sofa to face him, trailing his fingertips along her cheekbones with a soft reverence before he captured her mouth once more.

Drawing back, he murmured, "I _adore_ you. And I can't help but think I'm the luckiest man alive." When a tear broke from the corner of her eye, he brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

Tucking her feet beneath her, Hermione drew in a long breath for courage. "When we made that vow, I don't think either of us knew what would come of it. For a long time now, you've been the most important person in my life, and now to know that I get to tell you every day how much you mean to me—" Her words dropped off with a harsh breath and she dropped her head into a tilt, a sad smile creeping across her face as she took in the raw emotion on his.

She took his hand into hers, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm, before leaning in to kiss him deeply once more, curling her fingers into the silk of his tie.

In one steady movement, Draco wrapped an arm tightly around her back before rising to his feet and bringing her along with him. He hitched her up into his arms, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her lips followed by a bright peal of laughter.

A slow, crooked smile stretched across his face as he carried her across the threshold into their bedroom before setting her down.

Dragging his fingers along her exposed collarbone, fidgeting with her necklace, he said, "I love you, Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Malfoy," she corrected, wrapping her fingers around his before reaching back to release the clasp, idly plucking her earrings from her ear lobes.

The grey in Draco's irises darkened at the thought, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "Hermione Malfoy."

Offering a small smile in return, she breathed, "I might need you to help me out of this dress."

His smile curled into something altogether wicked.

Within minutes he'd divested her of the dress, leaving her in a white lace strapless bra with matching knickers and stockings, and for a long moment—so long that Hermione began to fidget with her hands—he only stared at her, the pale light of the moon filtering in through the window the only light.

And all the while as he made quick work of his suit, tucking his boutonnière carefully on top of the wardrobe, she couldn't quite look away, her heart dancing in her chest.

When he wore only his shorts, he stepped towards her.

Then he carefully removed each of her remaining items of clothing, his mouth trailing a string of sensuous kisses as he revealed her bare skin, so that by the time she was nude and he maneuvered her onto the bed, she couldn't imagine it could get any better.

But when he thrust into her, gentle but deep, his lips meeting the curve of her jaw. When her eyes fell shut, back arching as she dragged her nails down his shoulders. And as he made love to her like he never had, his every touch covetous, her heart raced a desperate cadence in her chest.

Until she tumbled over the edge with a cry, her release washing over her as he followed with a low utterance of her name.

The love in his stare was resounding as he gazed at her, his lips seeking out hers once more, and Hermione wondered how she had ever imagined a future without him at her side.

When he withdrew and settled beside her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, she sought his stare with the clenching of her heart.

"I thought," he breathed, his grey eyes irises sparkling with silver in the cool light of the moon, "we could start in Italy."

She hummed, her eyes fluttering with fatigue as he tugged her into his arms; half-aware, she felt the gentle wash of cleansing magic sweep across her. "I've always wanted to see Italy."

Draco shifted, tugging her against his chest. "Greece," he added softly, snagging her earlobe between his teeth. "I've never been to Greece."

"Neither have I," she whispered, warm and secure in his hold.

Tucking her curls aside, he brushed his lips against her jaw. "Prague. Budapest. Berlin. Moscow."

A lazy smile lifted her cheeks, her eyes fully closed as she breathed, "This sounds like a lot to fit into three weeks."

"It won't all be in three weeks," he murmured, his voice growing thick with sleep as his hands flexed against her bare skin. "We have the rest of our lives to explore the world together."

The thought awoke something within her heart, even as peace spread through her.

And idly, with his quiet words playing about her skin, she fell into dreams of the life that was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you so much for joining me for this little story; I appreciate all of your support and kind words more than I can say. Only the epilogue remains, which I'll post in a couple days.
> 
> Thanks to Kyonomiko for helping me put this story together; mistakes are my own.


	13. Chapter 13

_**One Year Later** _

Twirling a plastic straw between her fingers, Hermione gazed out at the spectacle before her. She glanced sidelong at Draco and mused, "Did you ever see such an extravagant thirty-first birthday party?"

"Never," he replied, doleful grey eyes drifting to hers. "It's almost as though they're using my birthday as an excuse to market their new event planning venture." He gave a flippant shrug, tossing back the remains of his whisky. "It's so Slytherin I'm not even mad."

Indeed, across the room Harry and Theo had been caught up in conversations for the better part of the evening—oftentimes with people Hermione didn't even recognise.

"Imagine how extravagant their engagement party will be?" she asked with a soft snicker. "If this is their idea of a casual birthday gathering."

Draco wore a grimace as he gazed across the room. "Imagine the _wedding_." He nodded as their server delivered a fresh round of drinks. "According to Theo, he had to make up for the fact that we were on honeymoon for my thirtieth birthday."

Hermione found her eyes lingering on Harry across the room, a wide grin stretching his face as he spoke with Theo. "I'm glad they're so happy. Harry's deserved someone like Theo for a long time."

She certainly hadn't been surprised when the pair of them had shared the news of their engagement the month before, but she _was_ excited, especially since Harry had asked her to stand at his side.

For a moment Draco didn't speak, merely took her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "I agree. And I know how much it means to Theo that Potter's been so supportive of his new business."

"I think Harry's almost more excited about it than Theo is," she mused with a titter, taking a sip of her drink. "It explains why he serves three desserts every time we go over for dinner these days."

Draco levied a long sigh. "Theo was just becoming a proficient enough apprentice." But his lips twitched with a smirk. "I suppose I'll just have to hire an _actual_ Potioneer to help around the shop."

It was strange to consider how things had changed over the course of the past year since she and Draco had married. His thirtieth birthday had come and gone—they'd celebrated with Limoncello overlooking the Amalfi Coast—and the vow had solidified within her soul, appeased.

Draco had transitioned from the friend she'd always had at her side to the husband she'd always hoped to find.

Leaning back in his seat, he snorted as he surveyed the room once more. "Can you believe _Pansy's_ pregnant? That child will be in for it."

Despite herself, Hermione giggled at the thought, following his gaze to where Pansy and Luther sat in conversation with Blaise and Daphne, the first hints of Pansy's pregnancy beginning to show through her dress. "I think she'll be a wonderful mother. And Luther balances out some of her wilder impulses nicely."

When her gaze lingered, he nudged her shoulder gently, his expression serious when she glanced his way. "There still isn't any rush, you know. For us."

"I know," she whispered, smiling.

They'd discussed the idea of beginning a family—more than once—but ultimately decided to wait a while longer before giving it too much serious thought. Between her work with Gringotts and his at the apothecary, they'd just begun to settle into a proper routine that they both enjoyed. Neither of them were quite ready to shake everything up again just yet.

Draco clicked his tongue, glancing up as Theo and Harry joined them at their table. "Nice of you to join us," he drawled, casting each of them a mockingly derisive stare.

"You've been sitting here all night like a lump," Theo sniffed.

Draco grimaced, his eyes narrowing as he glanced her way. "I can't walk very well; I tore—something."

"He tore a hamstring," Hermione supplied, giggling at his melodrama. "He'll be absolutely fine but the healer told him to go easy on it for a couple of days."

"How the fuck did you do that?" Theo asked with a snort. "Don't tell me you're trying to get into running again. Remember how badly that went last year?"

Draco nodded, taking a deep swig of whisky. "I do."

"Running is healthy," Hermione mused. "Cardio is good for the heart."

Rolling his eyes, Draco muttered, "I much prefer a different form of cardio," before shooting her a stare. Theo and Harry sniggered.

Holding back a laugh of her own, Hermione nudged his foot beneath the table, and though the scowl remained on his face, his eyes sparkled when they met hers. For as much as Draco still claimed he despised running, he'd been making the effort to come along with her since he knew how much she had come to enjoy it.

He had definitely improved, though he was insistent otherwise. And Hermione didn't dare speak it aloud, but she was quite sure he was actually starting to like it as well.

"Well," Harry said, brandishing a glass as he carefully schooled his expression, "cheers, mate. Happy birthday."

"Thanks Potter," Draco murmured, lifting his own drink. Hermione and Theo quickly joined in, and a smile curled Draco's lips. "To friends—and family. And to moving forward, no matter what that looks like."

As they clinked their glasses, Hermione took a sip, her eyes flitting to find Draco's again.

Sometimes she wondered where they might have ended up, if one of them had met someone else during the years when the vow between them hovered, just out of reach. Or if she had never been encouraged to come to her senses and tell him how she really felt.

After only a year of marriage, she knew she never could have been as happy with anyone else as she was with Draco. Despite that they still fell into pointless arguments from time to time, their old natural proclivity to outdo one another rising to the surface, he was the most important person in her life.

He had been for years as her best friend, and now she knew she would never lose him.

Beneath the table, his other hand grappled for hers, entwining their fingers with a squeeze. His grey eyes seared into her own, even as he took another idle sip of his drink.

"They're doing that thing," Theo said, interrupting the silence.

When Hermione's stare flickered briefly towards Harry, he offered a grimace. "That's our cue to leave."

As the pair of them vacated the table, Draco snickered before setting his drink down and burying a hand into her curls. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his nose nudging hers as he rested his forehead against hers. "I keep thinking about us—and how a year ago, everything could have played out differently."

"Me too," Hermione admitted, looking him in the eye again when he drew back. "I can't imagine being with anyone else."

He idly swept a loose curl out of her face and Hermione recognised the fidget as a tell of his nerves. At last he blew out a breath. "You've made every aspect of my life better. And not just since we've been together, but since you decided I was worth your time and friendship all those years ago."

"Draco, I—"

He placed a hand on the table, his expression flashing with confliction, and she fell silent, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I just need you to know," he went on, "how much you mean to me. And how grateful I am every damn day that you're by my side."

Her eyes stung with the warm pressure of tears as she whispered, "I always will be."

"I know," he breathed, moistening his lips. "I'm only sorry it took me as long as it did to realise how much you meant to me. I should have fought for you sooner."

A wide smile splitting her face, Hermione pressed her lips against his once more, blinking back tears as she met the brilliant facets of his eyes with a whispered, "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

Caught in his eyes, she knew he would always be forever in her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well thanks everyone for reading this little story. I hope you enjoyed the pining-angst-fluff ride. I've really appreciated all of your wonderful comments and your support truly means everything to me, even if I don't always have time to thank everyone in person. I hope you're all keeping safe and well.
> 
> As always, more stories are in the works and if you're interested in something a little longer and more complex, I have another WIP called Nocturnus :) Come visit me on tumblr or twitter at indreamsink for more updates.
> 
> Love and hearts to Kyonomiko for being my wonderful alpha on this story.


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